Spaghetti und Würstchen
by ate flexi
Summary: One morning, Germany is cursed into becoming a female, forcing him to take on the alias, Lucia. Numerous other problems would subsequently follow as a certain Italian boy fell deeper in love with his female guise. His emotions are left in quite a frenzy.
1. Brüste

**Chapter 1 - Brüste**

"And you remember when England swallowed up that gallon of dirt? That was the best part! And wait wait wait…!"

Italy had been reviewing their—or more like Germany's—recent triumph over the once mighty British Empire. Although he had long realized that he was never usually much help in these battles, it always made Italy happy to know that England or anyone else is unable to do him harm as long as he had Germany as his ally. On the other hand, Germany goes through at least five migraines every day from worrying about his clumsier-than-most-others ally. Winning battles was never a big deal for him, but it was always a pain to simply keep Italy from getting captured, tripping on mines, getting shot, etc. Although he could be an annoying and useless little Italian boy, Germany had to admit that it was nice to have a ball of sunshine around; despite all the troubles he had put him through, he admits that Italy is the main reason for any positive outlook he has on life. He might as well be the ultimate source of any happiness he could find in his being. But as of now, the only thing he needed while writing up his latest mission report was peace and quiet.

"Italy, I remember everything that happened. It was just a couple of hours ago." Germany rubbed his temples in efforts to soothe away the rapidly spreading migraine.

"Now just let me write up this report and spare myself from another lullaby session with my brother. With all the mistakes you've made today, that's the least you could do for me right now."

"Hmmm…alright…" With a cute little pout, Italy was on his way out of Germany's office.

"Call me when you're all finished, and we'll go out for some gelato! Gelato~!" Italy pranced around happily at the thought of the sickly sweet and creamy delicacy melting in his mouth.

Germany gave off an exasperated sigh before replying, "Yeah, yeah, I'll give you a call, but I might be done pretty—"

"Okay~!" Italy interrupted as he slammed the door on his way out. Germany's palm met his face for a quick moment.

"Ugh…Time to get this finished…" And so his writing continued…

::::::::::::::::::::

Italy walked through cobblestone courtyards and alleys trying to find something to do or someone to play with. Japan was busy making dinner for his boss, so that left him wandering his own streets out of boredom.

"Hmm…Germany's always so busy…I wish he had more time to hang out with me."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he passed by the florist's shop, sniffing the sweet-smelling roses as he walked by. It was then when he heard the beautiful sound of giggling girls behind him. He spun on his heel quickly, like a dog on full alert, as he followed the chime with his ears. He spotted the group of girls heading to the café across the street and nearly leapt with joy.

"Yahoo~! Something to do for the next few hours!" Italy sprinted towards the café, ready to sweep some girls off their feet.

::::::::::::::::::::

'_How long has it been since I've started this report?_' Germany thought to himself as he rubbed the fatigue out of his eyes. He took a quick glance at the clock. It read 11:18pm. He sighed. Unfortunately for his ally, he won't have time for any gelato. Hopefully Italy won't come home depressed again without his gelato fill for the day. He gave off another tired sigh and brought his pen back down in contact with paper. As he continued writing statement after statement, he began feeling a throbbing pain in his chest.

"Agh…what is this…?"

He paused for a moment to rub away the pain somehow. It washed over him, one throbbing wave after another spreading across his muscular chest. _'Maybe it's just heartburn…'_ he thought.

"I should've known better than to eat more than three baked potatoes in a single hour..." And so the scribbling continued, as well as the throbbing…

::::::::::::::::::::

"Aww! But do you really have to leave now?"

"Yeah, it's not _that_ late!"

Italy had each of those girls in the palm of his hand by the end of the day. If there was anything he had any confidence in, it was making a girl happy. "Sorry, ladies, but it's getting pretty late. I always need a good night's sleep; otherwise I'd get a scolding first thing in the morning, hehe…"

"Oh, you're just too cute~" said another.

They had all finished their coffee and tiramisu by then and decided that 11pm is late enough to head on home. The girls each had their own worrying parent, while Italy had an ever-worrying ally. With that, they shared phone numbers and parted ways as the peppy young Latin boy sang out "_Ciao belle_~!" at the top of his lungs.

Although he was lucky enough to find three or four girls to spend an entire evening with, Italy still went home disappointed. Germany was just too busy to spend some quality time with him, after all. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but he had always wished that Germany had more time to spend with him. Even though he had Japan from time to time, they went through too much culture shock from simply being together.

With so very little Germany and much less Japan in his life lately, Italy had been wishing more often for at least one single lady with whom he could feel connected to. Each day he would encounter throngs of cute girls, each of whom is easily captured by his kindness and charm, but none of them really made him feel…whole. Those girls were simply there just for the sake of flirtatious pastime, in Italy's view; he never really saw any of them even as a friend in the very least. All in all, he's been feeling quite lonely lately. But when it came to putting up with lonely nights like these, Italy knew quite the remedy. With a giggle and a "Ve~" he made a quick detour…

::::::::::::::::::::

"Weeeeeest~! Where are my scuba flippers?" Prussia yelled from the other side of the house. Germany had just gotten out of the shower and was in the process of drying his hair.

"Ugh…I don't know where they are! With the kind of state your room is in right now, you might as well post an amber alert on each of your belongings!"

"What did you say? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" he yelled back louder than ever.

'_That guy…I wish he'd stop bringing so many weird things home every day…'_ he thought hopelessly as he wiped off the steam in the mirror to take a quick look at himself. Ever since he came home earlier that day, along with those persisting chest pains, he hadn't been feeling very well at all. During his shower session—as embarrassing as it was to even think about—he had noticed his vital regions have been acting quite…weird. It was an interesting and inexplicable sensation that was neither painful nor pleasurable. Whatever explanation could be conjured up, the fact that it was occurring around his vital areas was enough to make him pretty concerned.

Germany was on his way out the bathroom and to his bedroom when he was abruptly met by his obnoxious albino brother at the doorway, casually blocking his path.

"Yo~ West."

"_Bruder_…what is it?" he sighed.

Prussia gave him quite the worried look, one Germany would expect from his older brother in serious times. "You've been acting kinda weird since you got home, y'know…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted as he pushed past him. "I'll be heading to bed now, if you don't mind."

"Hehe…you're quite the liar, you know that?" Prussia chuckled.

"What are you saying? I said I'm fine."

"No~pe. Something's bothering you. I can see it in your face. It's my big-brother instincts kicking in, kesese!"

Germany stopped short of his tracks in the hallway and sighed as he turned around, meeting his brother in the eye. "I. Am. _Fine_," he insisted again, except the word "fine" came out a few octaves higher than intended. It sounded like the sheer weight of his testosterone-laden voice made his vocal box cave in. Prussia snorted quite loudly upon noticing the awkward vocal shift his little brother made.

"Buhah—what the hell was _that_?"

As Prussia fell on his knees from laughter, Germany flushed a couple shades of pink at the sudden shift. He cleared his throat, in hopes that his voice wouldn't awkwardly crack like that again.

"I-I don't know, but, I-I'm sure it was nothing!" he insisted. "Now, I'll be going to bed, if you don't mind," he said, continuing his way towards his bedroom, slamming the door behind him in utter embarrassment.

Prussia got back on his feet, still chuckling, but calming down nonetheless. "Still as stubborn as usual…guess we'll just have to see how he turns out tomorrow morning…"

Before dousing the lights, Germany flipped through all of the medical reference books found in his house in hopes of piecing together the mysterious symptoms he was going through and maybe even find a possible remedy. This continued for about half an hour of as much thorough research as he could muster with his remaining willpower, and still he found no titled illness that came close to all that he was going through at the moment. At 2:45 in the morning, forcing his body up any later would only diminish his strength for the following morning. Instead, he decided to just take an aspirin upon bedtime and simply hope that all his bodily troubles will just blow over by the coming morning.

::::::::::::::::::::

"_...So this little hygienic tool right here, just gently stick it halfway into your opening, and it will soak up all blood and other excreted bodily fluids…"_

_Germany found himself in a classroom and a desk listening to a pretty…invasive lesson about…'_Tampons?'_ he thought incredulously._

"…_If you keep this lodged in for far longer than two or three hours," the random professor continued, "you might end up with toxic shock syndrome…" Germany had had enough of one awkward health lesson and stormed out of the classroom, only to find himself inside a lingerie store._

"_Oh, what is this now?" He blushed at the numerous variations of frilly bras and panties that surrounded him. Despite his ero reputation, Germany actually tried his best to find a nearby exit, as it was all just awkwardly overwhelming for him. On his way out however, a sales associate had approached him with a gargantuan size E black lacy bra. "Here you go, ma'am. I think this size is a good fit for a lady with assets as well-endowed as yours."_

"_Umm, s-sorry, I think you have me mistaken for—well…" He wasn't sure exactly what to say to say that. He looked down in thought and confusion only to be met with a very interesting and certainly unusual obstruction. Had he grown…_breasts_?_

"_What in the hell…?" he asked himself in quiet disbelief, gently patting down his new assets to make sure they weren't a mirage or something of the like. "Uhh—umm, sorry, I…I have to be somewhere." Germany rushed past the imaginary sales associate, still trying to find an exit somewhere. A door happened to materialize behind the lotions rack, and he zipped right through it._

_Behind this door, however, was just pitch black darkness. Germany couldn't see a thing. As he cautiously took one step after another, he gently patted down his chest again to check if the female obstruction was still in place. He gave out a sigh of relief when all he felt were flat pectorals. His feelings of relief were short-lived when they were again replaced with anxiousness at the sight of a spotlight suddenly appearing somewhere a few feet ahead of him. Under this spotlight was a mysterious hooded figure…_

"Santa Barbara winta…Dumbledora ze Explora…" _he chanted with uninterrupted concentration. Germany approached this curious figure with caution; he didn't seem to realize he was there at all. He stopped directly in front of him, but the hooded figure continued chanting. "_Santa Maria fey zan fia…_"_

"…_Who on Earth…" Germany tried calling out to him, but he wouldn't listen. He tried looking into the figure's hood, but could barely even make out the dark silhouette of the face inside of it._

"…_You think you could defeat me so easily?" he suddenly asked him. At such a provocative question, Germany was on the alert now, ready to fight if he had to. The hooded figure chuckled._

"_Well, it won't be that easy. I have a few tricks up my sleeves that even you can't retaliate against."_

"…_What are you—?"_

"_Now…witness the power of my ethereal abilities. By the power bestowed upon me by the Great Beyond, on you I place this mighty curse!"_

_Germany was suddenly enveloped by a blinding white light. He had to shield his eyes against it and was unable to defend himself from anything else that may come his way. "Shit…" The light only got brighter and soon enough he really was unable to see lest even defend himself from this coming curse. Somewhere in the distant backdrops of white, he could hear evil chuckles and a mocking voice,_

_"Let's see who the vulnerable one is now…Next time, you ought to think twice about messing with an empire as mighty as myself…"_

::::::::::::::::::::

Germany shot up in full alert. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, still breathing heavily from his unusually intense dream. His eyes strained against the fresh sunlight seeping through his blinds, still adjusting to the sudden brightness. Certainly it wasn't as bright as what he had experienced in that dream of his. He sighed and glanced at the clock on his bedside table, realizing the alarm had been going off. It's 6am. He took a deep breath and let it back out in efforts to calm his pulse and relax himself.

'_Only a bad dream…'_ he reassured himself. '_Just a bad dream was all…'_ His own mental reassurances were enough to calm him down. Germany continued to relish in this calm and quiet morning and the sweet realm of reality…for at least the next few seconds or so.

"Good morning, Germanyyy~!

From under his sheets, a cute little Italian boy popped up. It was only 6:01am, a quick minute immediately upon waking, and Germany had already felt a vein or two strain against his temples.

"Italy! How many times do I have to tell you to go home to your_ own _bed?"

A pause.

'…_There's something wrong with this scene,'_ Germany thought.

Since this was probably the twelfth time Germany had woken up to Italy by his bedside, that occurrence definitely wasn't the problem. At first he had brushed it off, but then he noticed that Italy had been staring at him funny—at his chest, to be more specific—that he, too, may have realized there was something off.

"Uhh…Germany…?"

"W-what are you looking at, Italy?"

And there's the problem. Germany's hand shot up to lightly encircle his throat, as if something had been lodged in there—or rather as if something had been taken out, something like his…Adam's apple? Not only was he missing that post-pubescent lump in his throat that was responsible for his deep, authoritative voice, but that deep, authoritative voice was altogether missing, as well. His voice had risen about a good **seven octaves**! Much higher than when had tried fighting off his brother's prying worries the previous night.

'_W-what's going on…?'_ he anxiously thought to himself, as his hand lightly felt along his neck, as if his Adam's apple was simply misplaced somewhere in that area. He was so distracted with the sudden and drastic vocal change that the utterance coming from the Italian in his sheets arrived to his ears as a mumbling of Pig Latin.

And again with that higher, new voice of his, "W-wait, speak up! I didn't get that…"

"Y-you…uhh…you…you're…" The look on Italy's face became more and more confused the more he mumbled. A shaking finger directed itself to Germany's chest.

"WHAT IS IT, ITALY?"

Italy word-vomitted. "…BOOBS."

There was an uncomfortable and confused silence. "…What…?" Germany asked quietly in his high voice.

"…Boobs," Italy repeated. "Germany…you grew boobs…"

Germany had a quick flashback to his dream, when he had ended up in the skimpy lingerie store and had grown a pair of obstructive, size E breasts, but immediately shook his head along with such incredulous thoughts and just scoffed angrily at the statement.

"What kind of nonsense are you talking about? First of all Italy, you shouldn't be—"

He stopped short of his sentence when he looked down his shirt, only to find two large mounds straining against his now tight tank top.

He was so flabbergasted that he was unconsciously running his hands down his own, newly-sprouted rack, finding the whole ordeal just flat out unfathomable. Meanwhile, Italy wasn't sure what to think of a female-form Germany feeling him—err—herself suggestively. It was making him quite uncomfortable—as if the situation alone weren't weird enough—and he tried to avert his eyes to focus on anything else around the room. "Ummm…"

'_T-this just…this doesn't make any sense…' _Germany started putting all the symptoms together. His voice. His chest. _'Wait…then that just leaves…'_

Germany felt his hand drift further down to his vital regions, feeling around his crotch. Missing were his free-hanging male parts; what he felt was flat and surely soft. There was no point in calling himself a "he." _He_ became a _she_. And _she_ was confused and anxious and flabbergasted beyond belief. She quickly remembered that Italy was still sitting on her bed. She looked up only to be met by his confused face and an unsure "Ve~"

Germany gave out a nervous chuckle, which eventually ended up a maniacal laugh. "Heh…T-this is just a dream! Yeah…that makes sense. There's no way this is real! I'm just having a very awkward, fantasy-driven dream about changing genders, is all! I'm still asleep!" she reassured himself, crossing her arms in confidence to her own statement.

"I'll just close my eyes and will myself to wake up and get back to reality!"

Italy cocked his head in wonder as the new she-Germany sat in her bed, arms crossed and eyes closed. She sat there for a good minute; she was really waiting to "wake-up" from this awkward "dream" of hers. "Mhhm…anytime now…" she said. Italy cautiously approached this new female form of Germany's.

"Vee~ Germany...? Hey, Germany…" he pressed on. She cracked open one eye and saw Italy crouched curiously in front of her like a prying cat.

"…You're still here…" she quietly said aloud in a tone of disbelief. She slowly uncrossed her arms and looked back down her shirt. That obstruction…that same female obstruction he had so frighteningly grown out in his dream—they were _real_. And Italy was staring quite a bit. Germany felt her cheeks redden under his gaze as she shook in anxiousness. "I-Italy…?"

Suddenly, a tiny Italian hand shot out and firmly planted itself on a meaty breast. She gasped in surprise as those invasive fingers gently and curiously began kneading her new features. Her breathing shifted quite a bit, her cheeks flushing in a much deeper hue than before, as the sensation was definitely quite new to her. This female Germany unconsciously let out a tiny moan as little buds now sprouted and strained against her tank. She gently but surely pushed away that obnoxious hand.

"Haa...S-stop that! What are you doing?"

Italy's head was still curiously cocked to the side as he looked at his offensive hand, wiggling his fingers a little. He then nodded his head in reassurance; that firmness he so directly and very offensively felt was most definitely _real_. He then looked up at his now clearly female ally.

"Vee~ Germany…" Germany's breathing was still a little stinted, both out of brief pleasure and still occurring anxiousness and confusion. Those sensations she felt…those felt way too real to have been a dream. Her nipples were still hard, revealing themselves under her black tank. She gasped as she felt the sudden need to cover herself in more bed sheets, feeling quite naked under the curious gaze of another man crouching in her bed.

"Germany…Germany's a—a _girl _now?" Italy asked innocently.

Germany didn't know what to say; the answer seemed obvious, but it's too much and too sudden to accept. It was way beyond the concepts of reality, yet this moment of confusion she and Italy were currently going through was no doubt reality. Instead of a straight "yes/no" answer, she answered with a shrill, high-pitched scream of terror that could be heard all across the expanse of the Black Forest. It was a scream of such magnitude that even found its way across the English Channel.

::::::::::::::::::::

It was about 5:05am in the United Kingdom, and England found himself awoken by a shrill but distant noise, only to sneeze so abruptly.

"Augh…damn this bloody weather giving me a bloody cold…" he cursed to himself as he sniffled.

As he lay back down on his bed, he felt a weird sensation, a sort of sixth sense that made him feel as if he had just so recently triumphed in something. He shrugged it off and fell back asleep, leaving all answers to what's surely occurring back in the Continent.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **there's a little bit of pronoun confusion in this story b/c i was deciding whether or not i should still call Germany a "he" after he transforms in some cases, but doing so only made my life more difficult (i really have a tendency of doing that OTL). in some cases, though, when i would refer back to the regular Germany, i would use "he," but all else would be "she" from when he transforms and thereon out. if you guys get confused, just let me know where; i'm bound to know the difference x]

btw, the chapter title translates to "Breasts" in German :P i'll be interchanging between German and Italian in chapter titles, it looks like. i don't know why, but foreign titles turn me on (-3-)~ i just started taking Italian, so i'll be putting a lot of the basics into practice while i'm writing this fic, just for kicks (^_^) - i know super little amounts of German, but i am enthused by the German language, so i'm gonna be using little German words just for fun (:

i haven't written a fanfic in a while, and this is my first HETALIA-based fanfic, sooo **COMMENTS WOULD BE MUCH APPRECIATED AS IT WOULD HELP ME DEVELOP IN MY WRITING. **:D


	2. Dusche

**Chapter 2 - Dusche**

Japan hurriedly—but, of course, politely—ran through the doors in response to the SOS phone call he had received from Italy about half an hour ago. It was a pretty ambiguous call, as any information Italy had given him at all were just scrunched up cries of "Japan! Japa~n! You have to come to Germany's house quick! He—uhh—she's going through something right now and we really need you!" The mention of "she" threw him off guard, and he was unable to question him for any more information as he had so quickly hung up on him just as abruptly as he had called him. He thought that maybe Hungary had paid them a visit and that they all needed his expertise on something outside their cultural boundaries...just maybe it had something to do with that kind of situation.

But, oh, was he wrong.

Such an unreal situation was definitely out of their boundaries of comprehension. Germany had turned female. What kind of unfathomable occurrence was this?

Japan looked down on a traumatized-looking female Germany, sitting in front of her still untouched mountain of pancakes, rubbing her arms in efforts to soothe, and Italy sitting worriedly in the chair on her right side, his plate empty and slathered in leftover butter and syrup. On her left sat Austria, nonchalantly sipping his morning coffee while reading the daily paper.

"_D-Doitsu-san…_?"

Japan was met with beautiful and worried blue eyes, such a vulnerable and worried face that clearly contrasted with the normal Germany's strong jaw line and intimidating eyes. It's the kind of picture-perfect German beauty that made Japan blush. He cleared his throat.

"_A-ano…Doitsu-san…_?"

"Japan…What the hell happened to me?" she cried out to him, as she covered her new feminine face with her feminine hands.

"Umm…" Japan tugged at the collar of his tasseled coat. "_Doitsu-san_…Well, have you eaten anything...unusual lately?" Japan was too shocked himself to think of asking any other question any less rational than what he'd just asked her.

Then from the kitchen doorway came Prussia, one hand holding another mountain of pancakes and the other holding a bottle of syrup. "Japan! It's so fucking awesome of you to join us!" He pranced towards Italy, handing him the plate of pancakes and the bottle of syrup.

"Uwaa~!" Italy cried in delight, as he quickly brushed off his worries for Germany and devoured his next plate.

"And what's this? My cute little _Schwester_ hasn't even touched her pancakes!" Prussia chimed as he obnoxiously pinched Germany's cheeks.

"I told you there was something wrong with you!" he nagged on.

Japan was quite shocked to see Prussia handle the very unusual situation so casually just as how Austria was acting as if there was nothing unusual going on at all.

Germany reddened in cute anger as she tried to push her prying brother away. "S-stop that! _Bruder_, stop it!" she yelled, her normal intimidating aura quite less than usual, but still present.

Prussia let go, continuing his overlord laugh as much as he pleased. "Kesesese! Ehahaha! To think that I'd ever end up with a sister! Ahaha! It's just—ahh…uh…"

Prussia stopped short at the sight of her breasts. They were simply just far too large for her tank top, and as of that day, Germany still had some shopping to do for the proper female essentials, including bras and panties, considering her male form normally went to bed in nothing but a tank and boxers.

There were certainly no panties in those boxers at the moment.

Prussia yanked nervously at his collar. His protective big-brother instincts were kicking in, as well as his sexually awkward distancing nature towards women.

"Uhh—mhhm…West…you really should, uh—maybe wear a bra or something…"

Germany gave him an angry look of incredulity. "Oh, okay _Bruder_. Would _you _happen to have any bras I can borrow?"

"W-Well, at least change your shirt! Your junk is hanging out and agh—there are men in the house! Now you go to your room and put on a different shirt!" he ordered his new sister, as he awkwardly stormed back to his bedroom. The Axis heard some angry and awkward mumbling coming from the stairs followed shortly by the slam of a door. Once Prussia was confined in his room, Germany let out a wail of despair. Japan was unsure of what to do except pat her in the back.

"There, there, _Doitsu-san_. Maybe it's not all as bad as it seems. At least you came out a healthy woman."

"That's the thing Japan: I'm a WOMAN. This is just not scientifically explicable! How could this have happened?"

Austria finally spoke. "As shocking as this situation should be, I have an odd feeling that something as bizarre as this would happen under this roof," he shared as-a-matter-of-factly as he took another sip of his morning coffee. He then excused himself from the dining table, making his way up the stairs.

"Ah, Germany," he suddenly added on his way upstairs. "I suggest you keep yourself much tidier and well-kept than you already have been, especially when it comes to bathroom use. I don't want to have to deal with unkempt feminine hygiene in this house." With that, Austria had left the room, leaving Germany with the strongest urge to chuck his plate of pancakes at the pompous aristocrat.

"That guy…always acting as if this house were his…" she growled to herself.

Italy just gulped down his second serving of pancakes. "Cheer up, girly Germany! Maybe God wanted you to be a girl all along and He just decided to fix His mistake today!" She gave Italy an annoyed look before letting out another loud wail of despair.

"How am I supposed to show myself to my men now? How am I supposed to show myself to anybody?"

"Hey! Maybe I can take over for you!" Italy suggested, patting Germany reassuringly in the back.

She then caught him in the usual strangle hold in response. Even though Germany is clearly female now, her death grip was still as strong as ever.

'German girls really are as strong and scary as they're reputed to be,' Italy thought as he was nearing loss of consciousness just before Germany loosened her grip.

"If anyone were to ask," she continued, "here's how the story goes...umm…I'm currently MIA somewhere in Africa, and…"—She was definitely improvising at this point—"I was reported missing while in the middle of a reconnaissance mission. If anyone were to ask you about my whereabouts and my condition, Japan, that is what you will tell them. Do I make myself clear?"

"_Hai_," he replied surely. "And _Doitsu-san_ has a skilled older brother. I'm sure he can handle your men for you while you are…well, 'MIA,' so to speak"

"Yeah…I'll have to stick with this story and let the other two in on it, as well. Austria isn't one to spill secrets so easily, although I am a bit worried about my loud-mouth brother…But as for you two, I trust you guys with such confidentiality." She then threw a piercing glance at the boy next to her.

"Am I right, Italy?"

"Don't worry, Germany! Your secret's safe with me!" Italy reassured.

"_Jaa_, what will you do now?" Japan asked.

Germany paused for a moment, and then sighed. "…I think I'm going to go take a shower…" With that, she got up and left behind her plate of pancakes. "You can have these, Japan, if you haven't eaten yet."

"Umm…well…" Japan stared at the daunting monster plate of pancakes with much worry. "I-it's fine, I've already eaten, thank you."

"I'll have it~!" Italy jumped at his third plate of pancakes.

::::::::::::::::::::

That was probably the most difficult shower Germany had ever taken. It took quite some effort to strip down first before showering with eyes half covered by one hand while the other tried soaping this new, more curvaceous body of hers. She can't think of a time when she had blushed harder than while she was showering in this female form; she was unsure of what parts to wash and how to wash them. Her vital areas were beyond different now. The area where penis and scrotum were once anatomically placed now had nothing but soft and silky flesh covered in a triangle of blonde fuzz, such that made her so reluctant but at the same time so curious to touch…

'_How do you clean down there?_' she constantly asked herself while she showered. Whatever the method was, Germany tried her best and washed off whatever soap she had left on and around her curvaceous body.

She got out of the shower, gently patting herself with a towel, feeling a mix of firm and soft flesh beneath. Since her hair was just about the only feature that retained most of its originality, she dried it in her usual fashion. She stood by the sink, staring at her blurred reflection on the steamed-over mirror. With a sigh of hesitation, she wiped away the steam with one hand, just enough to reveal her reflection from the waist up. In plain view were her now feminine face and her ample breasts. She brought her hands to her face, gently feeling its contours. Those once strong jaw line and stern brow were softened into gentle angles forming into a much more vulnerable countenance. She had grown an abundance of blonde eyelashes, further enhancing her much more crystal blue irises. Those hands traveled further down, gently skimming her smooth throat and her delicate collarbone, until they reach the top of her breasts. She felt a good amount of hesitation before letting her hands continue their journey downwards, familiarizing themselves with the firm flesh beneath. She felt her back slightly arch as her palms skimmed her hardened nipples, recognizing the extra sensitivity of the female body. Further those hands travelled, across the flat expanse of her smooth belly, until they reached down to her pelvis, barely skimming those blonde curls.

Germany noticed she had grown a light dust of pink across her cheeks. She had never played with a woman's body before, definitely not the way she had been doing just now. Germany was a virgin, after all. Never had _he_ imagined he would one day actually have a woman's body literally under the palms of his-rather, _her _hands…well, maybe he had imagined it a few times, but he never thought such fantasies would become reality in the most unrealistic of ways. It's a bizarre fantasy that she thought could only be described in one of her 'special' magazines. Now that her hands have reached that triangle of curiosity, what will she do next?

Surprisingly, she pulled her hands away from her vital areas only to plant them onto the sink counter. She took a deep breath, and slowly let it back out, repeating the words "self-control" in her mind. Now is not the time to lasciviously fool around, not while she still doesn't even have a clue of how she turned out the way she did. Who knows what disastrous consequences could occur just from a single wrong caress? After all, it was curiosity that killed the cat. And the few moments that recently passed were merely just her way of familiarizing herself with this new body of hers—that's all it was.

Now…what to do with her hair? She took another look at the mirror, focusing more on her face and hair. One would think that if a male became female, his hair would grow out in great lengths. In Germany's case, it was the same usual shag of blonde he would wake up to every morning. She slicked it back like she usually did as a man and took another good look at her womanly reflection. Finally she decided,

'…_No woman should ever do her hair like this_…'

Deeming the style unfeminine and unattractive, she violently shook her head and hair out of place and back into its shaggy form. She looked at the mirror again. Then, she took a dollop of hair gel and instead of slicking her hair back with it, she lightly tousled around her shag of blonde into a much more textured look, something more similar to her brother's, only a bit longer in length. After fingering a few pieces into place, Germany decided that this will be her new womanly 'do. Until she became her normal self again, she would have to deal with a few fringes skimming her brow.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Hey…hey, Japan!" Italy called out from his side of the couch.

"What is it, Italy-_kun_?"

Italy giggled excitedly. "Don't you think girly Germany is—well, you know, kinda cute?"

Japan choked on the air. "H-how could you be saying such things? He—uhh—she's still our ally, after all! We can't let such bizarre occurrences and foolish feelings just stand in our business like this!"

He huffed and puffed, little puffs of steam shot from his head, his cheeks covered in a deep red hue. Japan is a lot more reserved now that there's a female in the gang. Italy leaned back in his seat; he was a bit disappointed that Japan couldn't share his excitement about having a female Germany in the group. His disappointment flew out the window as he heard Germany creep up from behind a wall. She cleared her throat.

"S-sorry…I was going through some difficulty…and I'm not exactly appropriately dressed right now…" she answered shyly from behind the wall.

"C'mon, Germany! You're okay around us," Italy reassured.

Germany cleared her throat again, slowly coming out from hiding as she tugged down her shirt. She was clad in nothing but the usual button-down shirts from her closet and the old boxers that Austria had recently patched up. Japan felt his veins burst and his entire face blanket in blood red. Unable to cope with the situation, he stood up suddenly and excused himself with a bow, with the excuse that his dog Pocchi had yet to be fed. With that, he fled the house; until the next time they meet awkwardly like this, he probably won't be seen for a while.

'_That guy just can't get through a day of being around us without going through some sort of shock, huh_?' Germany thought upon hearing the slam of the front door.

She took another glance at Italy. He merely sat there fiddling his fingers, looking just as awkward as Germany usually would in everyday life. Then he looked back up at Germany and gave her a sweet smile. "I think you look really cute, Germany."

Of course, she couldn't help but blush. Germany was used to Italy's constant hugging, kissing, and easily yet whole-heartedly proclaimed "I love you's," but something about that smile and the way he said "You look cute" hit her a little deeper than most of his other statements of affection. She cleared her throat again.

"Umm—Even if you think so, I still can't go around looking like this…my brother will probably bust a vein just as bad as Japan did…"

Italy put a thoughtful finger to his lip and then busted a light bulb. "Can I take you shopping at my place, Germany? Can I, can I?" he asked her excitedly.

She thought about it a little and considered his great sense of fashion. "I mean, would you know what kind of things I need, Italy?"

"Well, I've lived with Hungary for quite a while, and I can say she's probably taught me a thing or two when it comes to a woman's 'needs'," he reassured her.

"Well…okay, I'll go shopping with you," she answered half-heartedly.

"Yahoo~!"

"Just let me find something more decent to wear...It might take a while..."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **second chapter up and running! actually a really short chapter, but i needed a nice clean spot to transition from one chapter to another. chapter title translates to "shower" in German - weird how in every other language the English word "shower" translates to something that sounds so close to "douche" in English...so why is it that "douche" in English is totally different from "shower"? unless you look at it as a "vagina shower" ...but why do we need the "vagina"? (-3-) UGH. wondering aloud, i'm sorry. i hate the English language with a passion.

anyway, once again **COMMENTS SHOW ME HOW MUCH YOU CARE :D**

chapter 3 will be up sooner than you think (;


	3. Lucia

**Chapter 3 - Lucia**

Italy's home was always a radiant and energetic plaza of sunshine. Cobblestone pavements and colorful fruit stands came to life with the joyous encounters of numerous locals, all greeting each other _"Buon giorno!"_ The air was saturated with the scent of wine, marinara sauce, and olive oil. Children chased each other without a care in the world. Lovers held and kissed each other amorously, unafraid of the public eye. In all directions, be it laughing or even arguing, everyone seemed to be living off a fresh source of vibrant energy. One of the reasons Germany had agreed to let Italy take her shopping was because of this vibrant energy. There is no other place in the world—not even her own house—where she felt more relaxed and carefree than in Italy's house.

Before they left, Germany had to find something in her closet that was capable of covering ninety percent of her assets. The closest she came to was an old military trench coat that was hidden away in the backdrops of her wardrobe. Getting a hold of it was almost like asking to be swallowed into the world of Narnia. It gave off a musky smell of mothballs and old wood. Not only did it smell funny, it was very unflattering to her female bodice and was not very ideal attire in the temperate Mediterranean weather found in Italy's house. She didn't have much of a choice, though. Whatever covered her up was good. But she thought best that she should at least leave with one new outfit that could save her from suffering a heat stroke any time soon.

Italy had brought her to Milan, the fashion capital of his house. Right when he laid eyes on Germany's unsightly trench, he knew he had to get her decent clothing quick, and he knew Milan was the place to go. He took her to the _Galleria Vittorio Emanuele_, where he was sure he'd find something for Germany, as the _Galleria_ was filled to the brim with haute couture and fresh Italian designer brands of any kind imaginable.

First thing is first: the essentials.

He took her hand and directed her to a lingerie store, with which he just about had to drag her inside. Upon sight of the skimpily clad manikins, Germany saw flashes of her recent nightmare and the embarrassment she went through at the discovery that she had grown breasts. She was more than unwilling to relive such embarrassment again, but Italy insisted that it was necessary for a woman to own a handful of panties and at least one brassiere.

"Ge-Germany! You have to come inside! They're going to have to measure you so that they could get you the right size!"

"No! T-there's no way I'm going back in there! I-it's too much!" she cried as she tried breaking free.

If she were still male, it would be no problem for her to break from Italy's grip. But now that she's a woman, much of her strength had diminished, and now she realizes Italy's potential as he was more than capable of getting a flailing German woman into a lingerie store. _'Why couldn't he muster at least _half _of this kind of strength in the battlefield?_' she thought incredulously as she flailed.

After much struggle and numerous stares from passing shoppers, Italy finally managed to get Germany deep into the store. He didn't really get Germany to calm down, but she was just about winded from struggling, which was enough to keep her quiet until he could get a sales lady to help them out.

"_Scusi_! My lady friend needs some measurements, _per favore_!" he called out to a nearby sales associate.

"Oh, why of course," she cheerfully replied, measuring tape hung on her shoulders at the ready. She gently took Germany's wrist and led her to a fitting room. "Why don't you follow me this way, _signora_?"

Germany wanted to resist, but she felt it would be rude and would cause much more commotion than she had already made. It was embarrassing enough to find herself in a lingerie store; she didn't want to make it worse by continuing to make a fuss about it. She threw a worried glance at Italy, and he replied with a cheerful "Ve~" and a thumbs up.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Alright, _signora_, if I could just have you remove your coat and then put your arms out like this," she motioned her arms into a T-shape as an example. Germany reluctantly began unbuttoning her trench. She looked up at the sales lady and asked shyly, "Umm—I'm a little embarrassed to…can I just leave this coat on?"

"Well, I need you to remove it so that I could take accurate measurements," she explained. "Also, there's no need to be embarrassed. We're all women here, am I right?"

Germany replied with an awkward and ironic chuckle. "Right…"

With that she slowly removed her trench. She was humiliated at the fact that she still didn't have a bra underneath the black tank she was wearing, but the lady didn't seem to care as she began roping her with the measuring tape once her arms had been lifted into a T-shape. She was really hoping that she wouldn't be asked to remove her pants either, because underneath those baggy, unflattering cargos all she had on were a pair of patched up boxers. The lady had wrapped Germany's bust with the measuring tape, having it rope as far as it could until it remained on a single number.

"Alright, so we're up to…115cm," the lady told her. "That's a nice big number," she added thoughtfully. Germany just chuckled nervously to keep the mood light; that _is_ a pretty big number.

::::::::::::::::::::

After measuring had been done, the sales lady brought Italy and Germany to the appropriate section, where all the D and above sizes were to be found. She then bid the couple happy shopping and went her merry way. The two of them began searching through racks and display tables. Germany was beet red as she fingered through one bra after another, taking only solid colors such as white or beige, while Italy happily ran about grabbing with him anything lacy and whatever he considered cute.

"Germany, Germany! How about this one?" Italy asked, holding up a large bra patterned in moons and stars. "This is for when you go to sleep!"

Germany shot him a deathly glare before smacking him upside the head. "Yaa! That hurt," he whimpered.

"Don't hand me such frilly things!" she whispered angrily. "If you're going to help me, then just find me some plain solid colors! There's no point in picking out something so frivolous when these are meant to go _underneath _your clothes anyway."

Italy pouted. "Germany is still as German as ever, even when he's a girl…" he quietly whined to himself. He then averted his attention to a nearby bra that he thought would be a nice and tasteful pick, even for someone as limited in choices as Germany.

"How about this one, Germany?" She turned around only to be smacked in the face by déjà vu. Italy held up a giant mass of black lace, so very similar to the one she had been offered in her dream.

"I told you, nothing frivolous!"

"But it's not _that_ frivolous!" Italy reasoned. "It's just lace, and it's a solid black color, just like you asked for!" That's not something Germany could argue with; it was pretty simple yet the lace also managed to add the soft feminine touch. It almost reminded her of the frills found on a maid dress…

"And I think black lace would look really nice on Germany," Italy added thoughtfully. At that, Germany busted a vein and grabbed Italy in another head lock. "You know any other woman would probably slap you for saying something provocative like that," she growled.

"Yeah, but instead Germany decides to strangle me," Italy managed to choke out. "B-besides *_wheeze*_ I didn't mean for it to be provocative _*wheeze* _at all…" and there he went losing consciousness again shortly before Germany had released him. She sighed.

"Don't say weird things like that again!"

"Okay~ I'm sorry," Italy wheezed out.

"Alright, well…how about you go over there and find me some sports bras? I'm probably going to need a number of those," she asked him shyly.

"Sir, ye—I mean—Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" With a salute, Italy went running off. Germany's face met the palm of her hand.

'_I guess I'll go look for some actual underwear while he's away,' _she mortifyingly thought.

::::::::::::::::::::

Upon checkout, the pair had gathered up eight bras—half of which are sports bras, since she'll still be doing a good amount of training while in this form anyway—and twelve pairs of panties. Italy spent most of his time flirting with the cashier as she neatly folded Germany's underwear and neatly placed them in a bag, although she resisted him a little, seeing as he had an intimidating German female companion by his side—the cashier didn't want to get on her bad side at all.

Germany grimaced at the thought of having to pay for women's underwear. So long as she needs to wear them, they'll be worth her while, she guessed. But she wanted to return to her normal form ASAP, and once that happens, she knew she would have wasted a good amount of money (women's underwear were pretty expensive, after all). She figured that when the time comes, she'd anonymously send all her bras to Ukraine—since she's the only one who she believes has a bust size that came close to hers—and feed her dogs all her leftover panties.

"I-is it okay if I wear one of these as I leave?" Germany asked the cashier.

"O-of course it's okay, _signora_!" she replied enthusiastically, yet with a slight hint of fear laced in her voice. "If you're so excited to wear 'em, go ahead and do it. I'd do the same thing, too." Germany blushed and chuckled awkwardly in response as she went on her way to a fitting room.

"Italy, wait for me outside the fitting rooms. Don't go anywhere," she ordered him.

"Okay, Germany!" he saluted.

As for wearing the actual bras, at least Germany knew how to put them on now. She knew that when it came to buying clothes, it was always a practical idea to try them on first before purchasing to make sure they fit nicely and comfortably. Who would've thought that such a habit certainly equaled a necessity in a woman's life? A woman can't go out shopping willy nilly without having tried on whatever she planned on buying first. And luckily for Germany, she thought about trying on the bras and panties first to see if they fit comfortably. How was she supposed to know how to wear a bra? A while ago when she was in the fitting room _trying _to try on a white bra, it became a jumbled mess. The cups were obvious indicators of where the breasts should be placed, but when it came to those arm loops, one arm was underneath the straps of the clasp and the other was tangled in the wrong strap. As if that weren't bad enough, the clasps in the back were always the hardest to get a hold off. She had to muster up the courage to ask a sales lady for assistance. Luckily for her, lingerie salespeople know how complicated lingerie could be, even when it came to the simplest of bras, making them more than willing to help.

In the fitting room, she was rummaging through the underwear she had just bought, trying to decide on which one to wear for her first day of being a woman. At first, she reached for the same white bra she had nearly destroyed while trying to fit a while ago, but then averted her attention to the black lacy bra underneath it that Italy had picked out for her. Yes, she decided to buy it. It didn't hurt to have one nice bra in the pack, right? She even bought a lacy pair of boy shorts to match with it. With that, she stripped down to the bone, trying her best not to take too long of a glance at the mirror. She smoothly slid on the lacy black underwear and, this time, neatly and successfully clasped on that lacy black bra. After fixing up the bra a little bit more so that it would support her breasts much better, with one deep breath, she turned around and took a look at herself in the mirror, clad in a set of black lace. It really was as flattering as Italy had so nonchalantly mentioned earlier. She liked how it contrasted with her fair skin. She made a slight turn of the hips so that she could take a quick glance at her booty and, man, did it look good. Germany now realizes how good a woman feels when she wears that nice pair of panties and that flattering bra; _she_ feels quite invincible.

She actually looked kind of…sexy.

Germany slapped herself in the face, blushing terribly at such incredulous thoughts. First the shower, now this? _'Pull yourself together. It's only been your first day as a woman and you're already acting weird with yourself,'_ she thought as she quickly put her heavy duty clothes back on and stormed out the fitting room.

Back in the store, Germany looked around and, of course, Italy was nowhere to be found. She growled as she stormed out of the store, ignoring the kind "_grazies_" and "_ciaos_" the ladies of the lingerie store had given her. She looked around the_ Galleria_, trying to look for a wandering Italian boy she is so familiar with. Of course, she'd find him across the street by the café, flirting with a group of girls sipping their coffee. Germany stomped her way towards the café, all the while Italy was giggling and chatting non-stop with these girls.

"So I was in the middle of training that day, and I was in the middle of running a lap when suddenly I had—woah!"

Italy's chat was interrupted when Germany forcefully yanked at the back of his collar and dragged him away from the café through the marble flooring. The girls whined, some of whom complained of Germany's sudden and rash actions, "Who does that she-man think she is anyway?"

"I told you to stay put," she growled at him. "I swear, whatever I tell you just enters through one ear and cleanly passes through the other, doesn't it?"

"Ve...Germany, don't be mad," Italy whined. "I saw the girls across the street and I just wanted to talk to them."

"Well, I'm a girl now, aren't I?" she retaliated rather bitterly. "How about you just stay put and if you wanted to talk to somebody so bad, talk to me instead."

"Ve…well, if it makes Germany feel better, we should go ahead and buy you some clothes now."

Germany sighed. "I'm not really mad at you, Italy. I just wish you would listen a little more often, you know what I mean?" she reasoned with him. "Now, where do you want to take me?"

Italy's spirits quickly sprouted to life again as he excitedly dragged her across the _Galleria_ to their next destination.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Here we are, _signora_, we found you some very nice dress suits that might be to your liking."

The salesman neatly laid out a number of dress suits on a sparkling white counter. Italy knew that, whether male or female, Germany would be one to wear a suit, so he went out of his way to ask for the best dress suits Gucci has to offer. Each came in its own color, from simple colors like beige and olive to bold, extravagant ones like pomegranate red and cobalt blue.

"Go ahead, Germany! Take your pick," Italy encouraged her from the bench he was sitting on.

"Well…if I had to pick a color it would be olive, wouldn't it?"

"But I think Germany would also look really nice in cobalt blue, don't you think so?" Italy suggested.

"Actually, cobalt blue is a very flattering color," the salesman added. "May I also suggest one in emerald green? The color is quite in fashion now."

Germany put a thoughtful finger to her lips. She was usually so very casual and uncaring about the way she looked as long as she looked presentable. If it were up to her, she would just ask for the neutral colors, then close her eyes, randomly pick a color, pay, and then leave. She was not used to being waited upon in a high-end designer store, neither was she used to being encouraged to pick any color she would like. Instead of deciding on a color herself, she thought she should let Italy have some fun and let him make all these fashion decisions for her, since he _is_ the more experienced one when it came to fashion.

"Italy, how about you pick for me?"

He looked up in surprise. "Really? You'd let me do that, Germany?"

"I-I don't know much about fashion anyway, so I don't want to have to go through all the trouble…" she explained.

Italy stood up very suddenly. "Well then! Let's go with the emerald green, the cobalt blue, and the pomegranate red!" he directed the salesman. "_Eccellente, signore_," he responded as he took the three color choices in arm.

"H-hey! Don't just go on picking the outrageous colors, now," Germany protested.

"I'd also like some comfortable pants, some blouses, dresses, hats, and gorgeous shoes for my lady friend!"

"Right away, _signore_," the salesman assured as he ran off to grab what had been requested.

"Italy, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you shopping! Shopping is no fun when you have limits, so I'm making sure I'm getting you as much lady clothes as you could possibly have!"

Germany felt uneasy with all this frivolity. "B-but isn't this going to cost a fortune?"

"Don't worry, Germany, it's all on me!" he reassured with a salute. Germany started fidgeting, uncomfortable with all the unnecessary expenses they would be making if they continue shopping in high-end retail like this, and Italy certainly noticed.

"You know," he continued, "in my house, it's all about _la bella figura—_Italians really make a big deal over making good impressions, so we always want to look stylish and presentable," he explained. "Since Germany looks like a whole new person now, I want everyone to know what a beautiful girl Germany has become. I want to buy her the best clothes around, so that when people walk by they'll say, '_Che bella~ quella ragazza tedesca!_'"

Germany immediately blushed, slightly taken aback by Italy's determination to shape her feminine image so well. Considering the cultural explanation Italy had just given her, she now understands why Italian fashion is so legendary in par with the French—Italians really care about the way they look and what other people think of them. _'But when it comes to a fight, they have no shame in running,_' she thought on the side.

"And besides," he looked around cautiously before shielding a hand against his cheek. "I have _special_ discounts here," he explained, winking away the worries.

'_I hope they're not Mafia-related,'_ Germany thought anxiously.

::::::::::::::::::::

It's 3:11pm.

The sun was high in the sky and the unlikely pair is now carrying bags and bags of designer brands, from Dolce&Gabbana and Prada to Louis Vuitton and Chanel. Italy wanted to be a gentleman and offered to carry six out of the eight bags, but his limp arms could only last so long. Germany saw it as a good opportunity for him to practice his endurance and develop some arm strength, so instead of easing poor Italy of his burdens, she forced him to continue carrying _all_ her shopping bags. He had bought her suits, dresses, pants, blouses, and so many boots—Germany was not about to drop boots out of her list of clothing anytime soon—and at that point, Italy was really feeling the weight of his expenses.

On top of her black lacy underwear, Germany had gotten rid of that old trench coat, black tank, cargo pants, and army boots and replaced them with a short-sleeved olive linen pencil dress that had a scooped neckline and was wrapped in a thin golden belt along her waist, and gold pumps. She went without the jewelry for the time being according to Italy's advice, who wanted to start her off nice and easy—he didn't want her feeling too gaudy or overbearing in her outfit.

"Fashion is all about feeling good in your skin and all that's on top of it," he told her earlier as she was struggling to squeeze her feet into those tight pumps.

Germany told Italy that she might not be ready for heels, but he insisted in buying them anyway because, of course, he rarely listens to what Germany has to tell him. Although the stilettos enhanced the figure of her already well-sculpted legs, her approval of the shoes did nothing to prevent her any difficulty in walking neither did it prevent the pain it began causing her feet. The marble flooring of the _Galleria_ didn't increase the difficulty in walking any bit, although the clacking her heels made just made her extra self-conscious. Despite any problems she may experiencing with her outfit—like the difficulty her stilettos were giving her or the lack of movement her tight pencil dress was allowing her—no doubt, Italy had made her a fashionable woman.

"Ve~ Germany don't try so hard to walk. Just walk normally; heel-toe, heel-toe."

"Guh. I told you not to get me stilettos, but you still went out of your way to buy me difficult shoes!"

"But Germany looks really good in them doesn't she?"

She sighed and looked at her reflection on the window of a nearby bakery. She can't deny that she definitely looked good. Her trance was broken by Italy's giggles. "What's so funny?" she asked him.

"Oh, nothing…I'm just happy that we finally get to spend some time together," he explained cheerfully. "Germany's been so busy lately, that I'd be walking around the streets by myself."

Germany felt a pang of guilt wash through her and looked the other direction to keep from showing Italy any of her emotion. "W-well, now that we've finished shopping…what do you want to do now, Italy?"

She turned back to him only to be met with a forceful hand and a cheerful cry of "Gelato~!" He dragged her across the _Galleria_ once more until they reached the nearest gelato creamery. Germany was winded by such sudden movements and was surprised that she hadn't broken an ankle or an entire leg while being dragged to their current destination. She was even more surprised that Italy could drag her around at such a speed all the while carrying eight large bags full of haute couture.

"Don't...Don't ever lunge forward like that ever again!" she scolded him, although it went completely ignored as all he was focused on now was getting his gelato fill.

"So what flavor do you want, Germany?"

"Me? …Umm, raspberry…if they have any…" she answered shyly.

"Okay~ _Un po' del lampone e tanto pistacchio, per favore!"_

"_Sì, signore!"_

As quickly as he had ordered it, Italy returned with a cone of swirled gelato in each hand. He handed Germany the light magenta-colored cone and held onto the light green one. They took a seat on the patio, observing as shoppers walked past. Germany took a quick look all around her cone before giving it a slow lick. She sighed at its sweetness and found herself quite satisfied that very second. She looked up at Italy and smiled to show her gratitude, but he was too busy devouring his pistachio cone. Germany grimaced at the sight and rested her head on her hand as she continued enjoying her raspberry gelato.

"How's it, Germany?" he asked all of a sudden.

"…It's delicious," she replied sincerely.

The two shared a brief moment of silence. Germany relished in the warmth of the sun seeping through the glass vaulting above her, while Italy relished in the simple company of his overprotective ally. Germany suddenly felt the need to ask him something. "Hey, Italy…"

"Hmm…"

"Am I…a scary person?" she asked shyly. Italy looked at her, an unconscious "Ve" escaping from his lips. Then he smiled and replied with the most enthusiastic voice, "Of course! Germany is a _very_ scary person!"

She was taken aback. "Wha—What is this sudden and cheerful agreement?"

"But it's okay," Italy continued. "Because that's what makes Germany who he is…err—_she _is…"

"If I'm so scary, then why do you continue being with me?"

"Hehe…Because I know that deep inside, Germany has a good heart! It's just hidden behind a scary face!"

Germany was suddenly washed with surreal melancholy at that statement. "'Scary face'…I see…"

"I think Germany should smile more often. Now that she's a girl, she probably has the cutest smile in the world!"

"You…really think so?"

"Go on and give it a try. I want to see you smile, Germany," he sweetly encouraged her.

"Umm…okay…"

Every time Germany tried to smile, it always hurt his face and scared others away. He really thought his smiling face was way scarier than his regular stern face. She tried to bring her cheeks upwards and make her lips curl so that she could bear her teeth. Doing all these at once just simply made her face strain. When she finally felt she had it down, she looked back up at Italy, a "smile" plastered on her face—a kind of "smile" that made Italy yelp and jump back in his seat.

"S-scary!"

"Okay, you're never making me smile again! I just can't smile the way you can!"

"M-maybe Germany just needs to relax her cheeks a little. You're just trying too hard, that's all," he reasoned.

"Hmph. If that really was the case, then you can't go on asking me to smile, it just won't work that way for me." She put down her cone and crossed her arms in disapproval. Their current squabble was then interrupted by what sounded like…a rather daunting sound to Germany's ears.

"Italy~! Is that you?"

'_Shit! What the hell is Hungary doing here?'_

"Hungary! Is that you? I'm over here!" He began waving back and forth conspicuously in his chair. Germany growled at him.

"You idiot! You can't have her come here while I'm like this! What if she realizes—" It was too late for warnings as Hungary had already arrived at their table at the speed of light.

"It's so good to see you, Italy!" She greeted him with a warm embrace.

"It's good to see you too, Hungary! I feel like it's been a while, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe a year or so…" And then came the question that Germany had been dreading to hear from her. "Who's your friend?" she asked him sweetly.

"Oh, you don't know? It's—" Before Italy could continue, Germany threw him the deadliest death glare she had ever given anyone. Italy could even see the malice radiating off of her designer clothing. With an "Eep!" he thought of a way to keep Germany's secret.

"I-it's…umm…This—I mean…she's my…uhh…GIRLFRIEND!"

'_WHAT_?'

"Wow, girlfriend?"

"Huh?" Italy shook his head, realizing the dreadful mistake he had just made and that he now had to keep the conversation consistent. "I mean…yeah! She's my girlfriend! Her name is…uhh…Lucia!" Germany felt her jaw fall even farther down. She could almost feel it touching the table.

"Oh, Lucia! How exciting! Italy has himself a girlfriend!" Hungary hopped around in girlish excitement before reaching out a welcoming hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Lucia!"

Germany giggled with much anxiety, trying her best to keep her hand from vibrating excessively as she shook Hungary's. "I-it's so very nice to m-meet you, too," she managed to choke out.

"Aww, you're so pretty, too!" Hungary continued in oblivious excitement. "Where did you and Italy meet?"

"Umm—well…" Germany didn't know how to answer _any_ of her questions. Italy decided to take over for her.

"W-we actually met while I was at Germany's house!" Germany shot him another death glare, worried that he might still reveal something this way.

"Oh, so that explains your blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes!" Hungary chimed. "I always thought you'd end up with a sun-kissed model, but to think you'd end up with a German beauty!" She gently nudged Italy with her elbow. "You're such a player, you~"

Italy just chuckled nervously while Germany mentally groaned and buried her face in her hands in efforts to cover the deep hue of red that washed over her face. She knew she had to recover quickly and try her best to get herself and Italy out of this awkward situation. She retracted her hands from her face and interrupted Hungary's excitement.

"I'm sorry, if you could excuse us…we have somewhere we need to be, right, _dear_?" She emphasized the word "dear" through gritted teeth. Italy was still as oblivious as ever.

"Huh, wha—" Suddenly, Germany grabbed Italy by the wrist and all the shopping bags with one swoop and left the crime scene as fast as she could. "Sorry! We have to go!" She yelled back at Hungary. Italy tried waving goodbye to her as Germany dragged him out of the area. Hungary waved back with a confused face. They continued on until Germany found an alley outside the _Galleria_ where there were certainly no witnesses to confirm any murders that may happen at any moment. She slammed Italy against the wall in anger and exasperation.

"What did you just tell her?" she demanded out of him.

"I-I-I-I don't know! I didn't know what I was thinking and the word just suddenly blurted out of my mouth!"

"GAH!" Germany punched the wall right beside his face, causing Italy to cower in fear. Italy was close to tears; Germany was still really scary, even as a girl.

"I'm so sorry, Germany! I didn't know what to say! I really wanted to keep your secret because I didn't want you to be angry with me! But you're still angry with me, anyway," he cried. Germany sighed. Guilt washed over her again. Italy really did try to keep her secret, and she really should appreciate his efforts a little more.

"You…I don't even know what to do with you…" She paced the alley a little to lower her blood pressure. Italy sniffled and whimpered.

"You did keep my secret safe, so…I'm grateful for that…but I can't believe of all things you could've improvised, it had to be _that_!"

Italy continued sniffling. "W-Well, you couldn't be related to me because you're _oozing_ German…and…maybe I meant to say 'friend,' but since you're a girl, the word 'girl' just happened to add itself—"

"'Add itself,' my ass," she grumbled to herself.

"Ve…"

After a minute or two of pacing the alley, she stopped in her tracks and sighed in apparent defeat of the situation. "It can't be helped anymore," she whispered in exasperation.

She turned around and took Italy by the hand and pulled him away from the brick wall. "So…what was my name again?"

Italy wiped his nose with the back of his hand before smiling. "Lucia!"

"Okay…then I guess I'll be Lucia while I'm still like this…"

"…A~nd?"

"…Don't push it…" she warned him through gritted teeth.

"Come on, Germany," he pressed on, careful not to burst another of her veins.

A growl emerged from deep within her throat, her eye twitching uncontrollably as she tried to force the words out of her throat.

"A-anddd…I'll be y-your…g-g-g-girl—"

Deep breath. She had to keep this consistent. This is just going to have to work.

"I'll be your girlfriend."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **hurhur you gaiz, ITALY HAS A GIRLFRIEND NAO. :'D

i wanted to pick out an alias for Germany that came close to "Ludwig" and is common among both Italian and German names, so i ended up finding "Lucia" (LOO-chya) and deemed it suitable :D let's say they're going through the beginning of spring so i decided to give her an outfit that's nice and simple but totally Germany—she's gonna be wearing olive, black, and gold a lot, so long as i'm the one who's dressing her up :3 speaking of dressing up, i'll be mentioning designer names here and there, it looks like. even then, i'm not a fashionista—that's my little sister's job :P according to her, i dress pretty plain and casual. as true as that is, i'd like to think i have a good sense of fashion lol XP let's say whatever fem!Germany ends up wearing, i'd wear it too~ haha

just a bit of cultural sharing, i thought the whole concept of _la bella figura _is really interesting—i was researching a couple of things for my Italian class and i ended finding an article on this philosophy. i thought it'd be a great addition to when Italy took Germany shopping, it's apparently a uniquely Italian lifestyle (: now i'm afraid to go to Italy without my entire wardrobe with me—i dont' want to look like a pitiful tourist with no sense of fashion (;w;)

and where are my ladies here? who agrees with me that wearing your best bra and underwear automatically makes your entire day? (-3-)~ b/c it definitely makes mine x]

chapter 4 will make its way soon enough~


	4. Ach, Bruder

**Chapter 4 - Ach, Bruder...**

The alarm went off. "6:00am" it read. Paranoid that everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours was not a dream, Germany was just a little too reluctant to get up. But he decided to take his chances anyway. He slammed on his alarm clock and slowly sat up, eyes scrunched closed. His hands shook nervously as they slowly lifted themselves up. They slammed themselves on his chest.

Round. Firm. Fleshy.

She opened her eyes and looked down with much disappointment. Those things were still planted in her chest. A quick glance at the corner of her room, and she saw that those shopping bags from numerous Italian designer stores were still there. She lifted her hands away from her chest and planted them on her face as she gave out a despairing groan. Everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours was definitely not a dream. It was still 100% reality—or at least 99.9995%, which meant that as of yesterday, after having so suddenly turned female that morning, she had also become Italy's _girlfriend_. She groaned again at the very thought of it.

Speaking of Italy, however, something felt a little off in this quiet morning. Germany removed her hands from her face and tried thinking about what it was that was missing. Her alarm went off like usual. There's nothing unusual about her getting up in the morning—of course, except the fact that she now has breasts and a vagina. She thought back to the previous night to make sure that the stove was turned off before she went to bed. Then it hit her. She picked up her sheets and looked underneath them. There was definitely something missing underneath her sheets.

There's no Italian boy to be found, whether sleeping, awake, crying, or otherwise.

Germany knew very well how much it irritated her to wake up to another guy sleeping under her sheets. But right now, she actually felt a bit of loneliness seep through her. Even though Italy always added himself to Germany's morning unannounced, it wasn't _always _unpleasant. He slept over last Christmas Eve just to make sure Germany got his present of provocative red boxers the next morning. And it was because he slept over that Germany even got to meet the great Roman Empire while he was stalking his grandson as a ghost. "You never really appreciate what you have until you've lost it," seems to be the moral of Germany's morning right now.

She pondered over what could have kept Italy from sleeping over. Had he come up with an illness? Did he feel too guilty about making Germany his girlfriend without warning that he decided against coming over? Whatever the reason, she couldn't dwell in this matter for too long; the morning had just arrived and she had a number of tasks she needed to get done, as usual. She rubbed the mopes and the sleep away from her eyes, and got out of bed.

::::::::::::::::::::

After a quick brush and rinse in the bathroom, Germany was walking through the hallways on her way downstairs to grab a quick breakfast. As she walked down the steps, still rubbing the sleepiness away from her eyes, she nearly slips on a rubber duck. With a growl, she picked up the random object while it squeaked as if in objection. _'That guy…leaving his weird junk around,'_ she thought menacingly of her brother. She stormed her way further downstairs until she heard the sound of unusual voices coming from the living room.

There was someone else in the house!

Germany ran back up the stairs, in hopes that she hadn't been seen. She took extra caution to ensure that she wouldn't slip on any weird object that may have still been left on the staircase by her brother, so as not to attract any attention to herself. Upstairs, she hid behind a wall near the railings, straining her eardrums to listen and figure out who this early morning visitor was. She saw Austria coming out of the entryway that lead to the living room, and behind followed a sweet-looking girl in a green dress.

'_Of course Hungary had to come by and visit at 6:30 in the morning! She probably came by because she was too excited to tell Austria that Italy had gotten a girlfriend,'_ Germany thought sarcastically.

"So he really is MIA…that's sad to hear, I hope he's okay," she heard her say. She then gave off a sigh of relief. Now she was sure that Austria had kept her secret.

"I wonder how that guy Prussia is taking all this," Hungary continued. "I'm sure he's very worried about his little brother."

"If you were wondering, he's been a lot quieter lately," Austria replied. "If anything good had to come out of this tragic event, it would probably be that."

Austria's words may have been cold, but they were also most definitely _wrong_, because from behind Germany's hiding place, a howl of unfathomable magnitude erupted.

"WEEEEST, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING?"

Germany was quick to react, as she immediately turned around, lunged at her brother, straddled him, and gagged him with the rubber duck she had picked up from the staircase moments ago. She managed to get him quiet before Hungary could even process the loud voices she had heard.

"Huh? D-did you hear something, Austria?"

"Hmm…? Hear what, Hungary?"

'_Thank goodness for that guy's cold demeanor,'_ Germany thought gratefully.

"I thought I heard a scream somewhere..."

"Maybe it's just too early in the morning for you, Hungary, that's all."

"Yeah, I guess you're right…I better get home, then. I have some errands to run after all."

"I'll walk you home," Austria offered.

Germany listened intently for their footsteps as they approached the front door. She even heard Hungary continue talking about Italy's new 'girlfriend' in a fashion of girlish excitement. It wasn't until she heard the soft click of the front door did she release her breath in a sigh of relief. She then finally un-gagged her brother, who had done a good amount of flailing the entire time he was straddled.

"GODDAMMIT, WEST! G-get off of me!"

"What the hell were you thinking using your conqueror voice like that when there was a visitor in the house?" she hissed angrily at him.

"Shit! If you could just get the hell off of me, _then_ I'll tell you what the hell I was thinking!"

After giving him a quick death glare, Germany slowly stood up and released her brother. She took a few steps back and crossed her arms, waiting for her brother's brilliant answer as he stood up and brushed himself off. Prussia was still breathing a bit heavily, exasperated from what occurred in the past three minutes. He then pointed an accusing finger at his brother-turned-sister.

"So…as I was saying earlier: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING, WEST?"

That finger dragged itself up and down his view of Germany's figure, clearly pointing out the powder blue silk night gown she had worn to sleep. The white-laced hem barely stopped short of her mid-thigh, while the white lace straps looked as if they could barely hold the massive weight of her breasts. Since the gown itself was woven out of silk, it made no effort to conceal her nipples underneath.

"What's wrong with it?" she yelled back, sassily placing her hands on her hips. "I-Italy picked it out for me…" she shyly added, turning away from her brother as her face was immediately washed over with pink.

Prussia was taken aback by his sister's response, his mouth running on with an exasperated jumble of consonants and some German curse words slipped in here and there. "L-leave it to a man to pick out your sleepwear and lingerie for you, huh? I bet that was imported straight from that bastard France's house!"

"What was I supposed to do about it? I had no idea what I was doing!"

"Oh, thanks for admitting it then! You _definitely_ had no idea what you were doing! I mean, look at you! That rag can barely cover up your tits! You look like the poster girl for a Cabaret show!"

Germany's face was now blood red at this point, her mouth hung open in flabbergast. "W-Well, I'm just trying to act more like a woman!" she retorted. "This _is_ what women wear when they go to sleep, isn't it?"

"That is, but—eh…" Prussia was lost for words. He was horrified by the thought of her straddling him while in that night gown. He shivered a little. "Please tell me you're wearing underwear underneath that thing."

"Yes! Yes, I am! Do you want to check?"

"_Nein_—sweet Jesus, _NEIN_!" Prussia shook his head violently, trying his hardest to shake away the thoughts of his sister in her underwear.

"Okay, okay…NEW RULE! If you're going to wear an abomination like that, wear it ONLY when you're in bed! You are not to leave your room until you put on something more decent and less revealing!"

With a few nagging wags of his finger, Prussia then stripped himself of his oversized bedtime tee and chucked it in Germany's direction. "Here! Wear this over that and go eat breakfast! I'm going to go take a…steaming hot shower…" He then stormed off, with little puffs of steam erupting from his heated head. He then abruptly turned back around to face his sister.

"Gah! Y-You know…God forbid France snuck around here and saw you, let alone wearing something like that, who knows what he might do to you? I-I don't even know what I'm going to do if that ever happened!" After making his point, he continued stomping his way to the bathroom.

Germany fingered Prussia's tee in wonder. His protective-older-brother potential was much greater than she had originally believed it to be when she was still a man. Considering his massive size and strength, Prussia really didn't have much to worry about when Germany was still a man, but apparently he's much more protective now that she's vulnerable. She then put on the oversized tee, just as her brother had ordered, successfully covering herself from the chest down to her waist. She felt warmth suddenly wash over her; it was nice to know her brother was so caring…

'_A little too caring...'_

::::::::::::::::::::

"Alright, men! Disregard the fact that I've sprouted breasts and my lack of a phallus has heightened the pitch of my voice. That won't stop me from ensuring you reach your fullest potential!"

Japan stood in full alert, while Italy focused his attention on a wandering butterfly. "Uwaa~! _Una bella farfalla!"_ He ran off and began chasing after it.

"Italy! Stay put! I'm not done talking to you!"

"Eep! Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

"Alright…today we'll be running 20 kilometers, and I expect all of us to finish within 45 minutes!"

"Yes ma'am," the two acknowledged.

Germany set her stopwatch to 45 minutes. "Okay…let's move!"

She started running with the other two as she normally would, but much to her and Japan's surprise, Italy began running immediately, as well, and without the motivation of anything related to food.

"I-Italy-_kun_…"

"Italy…you're actually _running_?"

"Yup, yup!" he replied happily as he jogged in pace with the other two.

"I-I don't even remember mentioning lunch, or gelato, or anything like that!"

"You don't have to, Germany," he said with a wink. Germany immediately blushed and had to turn her head away to prevent her teammates from seeing her sudden burst of emotion…

Ten minutes into running, however, and Japan was already a full kilometer ahead of them. It seemed Italy could only impress Germany for so long; he had already begun gasping for breath five minutes into their run. She knew she can surpass Japan, but she decided to keep with Italy's slow pace so that she could properly motivate him a little more.

"C'mon, Italy, you can do better! You impressed me just a few minutes ago! You can't back down on me now!"

He still continued gasping for breath, but Germany saw something in his face that came close to determination when he started picking up the pace again, wheezing as he went.

"Okay—_hah—_Captain…" Within a minute, Italy was now well ahead of her, keeping his pace steady.

'_That's more like it…All he needs is a little motivation,_' she thought.

Then, a sudden wave of pain shot through her back like a bullet. It spread like lightning and caused her to double over in agony. As if that weren't enough, the sudden wave of pain caused her to lose her balance and trip on a ridge in her path. Italy heard Germany cry in pain from behind him. As he turned around, he noticed she was already on the verge of toppling over.

"G-Germany?"

He ran straight for her, hoping that he could catch her in time. But Italy had no time to prevent Germany from falling, so he instead ran directly in front of her, using his tiny body to cushion her fall…

Germany fell face-forward, but neither her face nor her body made much contact with the floor. One hand was still planted in the small of her back where she experienced pain, and the other planted itself on the dirt path for support. She could've sworn she saw Italy running straight for her in the corner of her eye, but where could he be now. Then she heard an odd muffling voice coming from…underneath her?

"_Murfamy…mmf…Murfamy!_"

Germany then noticed the rogue strand of hair oddly sprouting from underneath her. She gasped in horror—she had smothered the poor boy with her large chest! She immediately lifted herself upon realization, happy to see that Italy was still alive and had not suffocated. The boy gasped deeply for air, his face a little red from exercise, panic, and smothering.

"I-Italy! Are you okay?"

"I'm_—hah—_fine…But what about_—hah—_Germany?"

"Huh? Umm, I'm fine, but…" she shook her head rapidly. "Wait! How did you even get under me like that? What were you trying to do?"

Italy sat up. "I didn't want Germany to fall, so I ran back to catch you, but I couldn't. So, instead, I just tried to make sure you…you know, didn't get hurt or something," he answered sincerely.

She was so touched by his rash actions that she didn't really know how to respond.

Suddenly, Italy let out a giggle. "Captain looks really good in her training clothes," he added charmingly.

She simply sighed and shook her head as she stood up, offering Italy a helping hand on the way, but not without smacking him upside the head for making such a weird comment about her outfit. The pain in her back still remained, however. She immediately gripped her back again, letting out a hiss.

"Germany, did you still get hurt?" Italy asked, quite worried.

"N-No, it's not that," she replied, taking both hands behind her back as she tried to crack it. "My back started hurting before I even tripped," she explained. From the distance, they then heard calls of "_Doitsu-san!"_ approaching closer. Japan was running their direction; seems he had also heard a damsel in distress somewhere.

"_Doitsu-san, _are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine…but my back is still killing me…"

"Maybe you should take a seat and rest for the day," Japan suggested. "You can still lead us if you want, but maybe it's best that you don't do anything strenuous," he added as he led her to a ledge to sit down. Germany sat down slowly, still rubbing the pain away from her back.

"Alright, well…as long as you guys can make it without me, just meet me back here or something…"

"Don't worry, Captain! I'll make sure I'll complete this run for you," Italy saluted.

She sighed, raising an eyebrow in slight doubt, but nonetheless trusted him with his words. "I'll take your word for it…you better not let me down, Italy. I expect to see you back here within the next half hour!"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" he saluted before running off to finish what he'd started.

"Don't push yourself, _Doitsu-san_," Japan suggested before running off after Italy.

Germany watched the two of them run off into the distance. She sighed as she started rubbing her back again. At that very moment when she tripped, she had a feeling in her gut that her humungous chest was responsible for all her troubles; there's really just too much weight bouncing in one area for her body to support. But of all things she would mention to her allies, this would be the very last of them if it were even in that list at all. To them, it should remain nothing but a mysterious and spontaneous cramp.

"I've never hated boobs more than I do now," Germany mumbled to herself.

::::::::::::::::::::

"_Bruder_...? Hey, _Bruder_, I'm home," Germany called out from the front door as she walked in.

"Yo~ West!" Prussia called out from upstairs. He walked in sight along the railings, boots on, jacket slung over his shoulders.

"I'm on my way to the pub! Why don't you tag along?"

"W-What? Are you crazy? My men are there almost every night! I can't go there when I'm supposed to be 'missing'!"

Prussia scoffed. "Pssh. I'm not dumb, West! That's why you're going there as a _chick_, remember?"

Despite Prussia being capable of stating the obvious, Germany was still doubtful. She already had to deal with Hungary, and look how it ended up. Appearing to a number of half-drunken troops and their lot of questions, how much does her identity have to change at this point?

"Besides," Prussia interrupted her thoughts as he slipped on his jacket. "I heard Italy already gave you a pet name as his…pfff…_girlfriend_."

Quick as lightning, Germany firmly gripped Prussia's lapels in a threatening manner. Of course, Prussia never really found his little brother _too_ threatening whenever it was directed towards him—not to mention the fact that he's a girl now, so he simply continued laughing at the very idea of his little brother-turned-sister being Italy's girlfriend. Prussia's obnoxious laughter gave Germany an immense urge to whack him into next week, but she knew that her alias had already been set and if she wanted to make sure her true identity were not found out and save herself from any worse humiliation, she had to go with the flow. Besides, she only has so much confidence in her female strength; right now, the worse she could probably do to Prussia is whack him into the following day if not the day after that.

"Anyway," Prussia interrupted Germany's thoughts, gasping for breath after a minute of haughty laughter, "I think that's a good enough alias to cover up your real identity. Like they're really going to find out and say, 'Hey, I think that's actually the captain, but he just returned from Africa with a sex change.'"

As ridiculous as that sounded, maybe Germany really was over-thinking everything that has happened; over-thinking was one of her many defining personality flaws, after all. The situation was definitely too bizarre for anyone else to even consider if they made efforts to stay within the boundaries of rationality, although there are some others she can name that may even be crazy enough to consider the idea…She sighed.

"Well…I need a drink, anyway. I guess one night won't hurt."

"That's the spirit, West!" Prussia chimed excitedly as he patted her on the shoulder. "But before we go, spin around and let me take a look at your outfit," he ordered her.

"Wha—What are you trying to—ugh…"

Germany did as her brother ordered and turned 360 degrees. Prussia put his fist under his chin in thought. He began slowly running his eyes up and down his sister's figure, examining her clothing. If it weren't for that serious and calculating look in his eyes, Germany might have gotten the wrong idea out of him.

Army jacket. Black training bra. Military pants. Combat boots.

It was definitely something Germany would wear whenever he went out for training, of course save for that training bra that exposed her smoothly sculpted abdominals, which struck Prussia as unsatisfactory—his sister was not about to leave the house at that time of night with her stomach exposed like so…He snapped his fingers.

"Alright…I want you to wear a t-shirt over that," he ordered her, motioning up the stairs. Germany growled in response, but nonetheless, did as her brother ordered; she didn't want anything similar to the incident from earlier that morning to happen at the pub with the witness of numerous soldiers. On her way up the stairs, Prussia whistled to get her attention,

"On your way to doing that, make sure you bring a nice, thick jacket with you," he added. "The sun's been long gone and it's über chilly out there."

Germany simply replied with the angry shake of a fist before continuing her way to her bedroom.

::::::::::::::::::::

After Germany changed into a black t-shirt and grabbed a new trench from one of the shopping bags in the corner of her room, the siblings trotted their way to the pub, where the lights that spilled out the windows came to life with dancing shadows. On their way inside, they had already noticed that at only 9pm—so early into the night—a quarter of the troops were already dancing on tables, joyously raising their mugs and glasses to another great night.

Once they made it through the front doors, men nearby had already been greeting Prussia and curiously asking who his "cute lady friend" is. Germany became concerned. She nudged her brother lightly and asked him, "Do they already know about it?"

"Yeah, yeah, they know you're missing and they all think I'm a hopeless wreck after having lost his precious little brother," he impatiently assured her. "Here, I'll make this easy for you so that you don't need to worry about these guys bugging you with questions."

And so he made his graceful introduction.

"HEY, EVERYBODY! LOOK THIS WAY!"

With his overpowering voice, Prussia managed to get most of the room to turn towards the entrance with a few mumbles and sorts. With hundreds of eyes gazing their direction, Germany shrunk back in her coat like a turtle, worried about what Prussia had in mind to speak out.

"See, this girl right here," he directed by looping an arm around Germany's defensively raised shoulders. "This lucky girl right here is Italy's girlfriend! She's paying us a visit!" His introduction drew out a joyous uproar and some applause from the crowd, along with some "Hey, she's cute!" and "What's your name, darling?"

'_Somebody, just shoot me already,'_ Germany thought despairingly.

"Okay, everybody," Prussia continued on, "She's kind of shy, so I'm going to try to coax her name out of her!" He nudged her in the arm with his elbow. "Come, _Mädchen_, tell them your name!"

Germany's head popped out a few centimeters from under the collar of her coat. Meanwhile, the crowd was silenced in anticipation.

She started off with the shyest voice imaginable. "_Ha—Hallo...Ich bin...Lucia..._"

She was immediately met with rowdy applause, some splashes of beer spraying from numerous mugs in multiple directions. Half the room was definitely tipsy at this point.

After the brash introduction had been made, Prussia grabbed his sister by the arm and led her toward the bar, a few men trailing conspicuously. He just about forcefully sat her down on a stool and pretty much ordered her to "chill."

"Now, _Lucia_,"—he added emphasis on her female alias—"you go ahead and take a drink and enjoy yourself, okay?" Germany replied with a grimace.

"Hey! You over there," he pointed at the bartender. "Can I get two pints for me and my lady-friend right here?" The elderly bartender happily replied with a nod. Within a minute, he approached the duo with two pints of beer. But before handing it to Prussia, he took a doubtful look at Germany.

"Are you sure your lady friend can handle a good pint?" he asked him. As trivial as it seemed, Germany was actually a tad offended by his question. Prussia just laughed it off.

"Are you kidding? This girl can drink much more than you think!" he assured him, hinting to the regular, old Germany and his normal drinking habits.

"I mean, look at this girl," he added with a hand shielding his cheek as he pointed conspicuously to her breasts. "Where do you think all that booze goes? Haha!"

Germany took the initiative to drive her fist directly down the top of her brother's head like a drill, causing him to slam his chin on the counter on his way down. The bartender, not bothered by any of Prussia's obnoxious ramblings or Germany's unladylike actions, simply chuckled as he handed them their drinks.

"Alright then, the both of you take it easy," he told them as he walked off to take another order. Germany was already taking swigs of her pint as Prussia was struggling to get back up on his stool. He rubbed his head, groaning as he grabbed his pint.

"_Verdammt_, West," he whispered through gritted teeth. "I told you to just chill!"

"I can't _chill_ when you keep ridiculing me like that," she snapped back at him before taking another swig. Prussia gave his sister a curious look before chuckling.

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you alone for the night then," he agreed. "Whatever it takes for you to cool your guns down. I'll be out and about if you need me," he said. With that, Prussia took his pint, got up, and left to walk around the pub, most likely in solitude laughing to himself. Germany watched as his brother left her premises, sighing in relief.

'_Maybe now I can drink in peace,_' she thought. After taking another quick swig, however, Germany realized that maybe she thought too soon.

"_Guten Abend_, _Fräulein._"

She was greeted by one of her own soldiers, oblivious to how he was greeting his own superior. A single soldier would have been easy for Germany to simply ignore, but in a matter of seconds within Prussia's departure, a number of other men had already approached her with similar friendlier-than-it-seems greetings. She should've known better as a woman than to walk into a bar full of off-duty German soldiers. If she was going to walk in there as a woman with the intention of drinking beer, she might as well walk inside fully clad in _trachten_ complete with ribbons and pretzel braids in her hair. She'll have to put up a much more determined effort.

"_G-guten Abend,_" she replied. "I appreciate your company, but I prefer to drink alone." Instead of these men dispersing and leaving her alone like she hoped they would, she only got a mass reply of "Ooh, 'likes to be alone,' she says," as they mocked her request.

"So, tell me," said another, "how'd you end up being with a guy as weak as that Italy?"

"Yeah! I'm sure you can do better than that," added another as he winked her direction with such given implications.

She sighed. Germany knew Italy was weak, but she felt the need to defend him somehow; they were allies after all, and in this case, as his "girlfriend," she had to stand by her "man". Loyalty had always been one of the greater virtues in her book, after all.

"Look," she said sternly after putting her pint down, "I don't appreciate any of you speaking ill about my lover like that." She slightly choked upon voicing the word "lover," but none of them seemed to notice; it looked as if they were too entranced by her moving lips.

"He may seem weak to all of you, but whenever I'm around, he's the strongest man I know."

Now that, Germany felt she could admit to with at least a wee bit of confidence, because it was definitely no lie that Italy can be amazing when there are girls he can show off to. Their training session earlier was proof of it; he had amazingly finished his given run at his personal record of 44 minutes, trailing very closely to Japan. The two of them were amazed at his progress.

"_See, Germany! I told you I'd finish in time!"_ she remembered him saying happily. Germany smiled slightly at the thought before returning to her current argument.

"Anyway, if all you men are going to just sit here and badmouth Feliciano, you might as well take your leave since I won't partake in any of your conversations," she stated, crossing her arms in assurance.

The men were taken aback and at the same time impressed by her assertiveness. They mumbled amongst themselves before breaking out into laughter. At first Germany was appalled, thinking that they were still mocking her, but it was quite the opposite.

"Hah! You're a tough cookie, Lucia!" one of them acknowledged, patting her in the back.

"Haha! Yeah! That Italy's so lucky to have a girl like you probably to defend him and catch him after every step he takes, am I right?" another joked.

Germany chuckled sarcastically. "Oh, you have no idea," she mumbled to herself.

"Hey, there, can we just sit here with you and chat?" one of them asked. "It's not every night we get a nice girl to hang with us at the bar, you know?"

"Yeah! C'mon, Lucia, share a drink or two with us!"

Germany felt a tad bit uneasy with taking such an offer. She knew well that two drunks of the opposite sex had so much potential in terms of mayhem; instead of just one man, she just had to be surrounded by numerous men, making the situation a little riskier. "Well, I…" But before she could even allow them to stay where they were or have them disperse from where she sat, the group was interrupted by what sounded like shattering glass and maybe a flip of a couple of chairs behind them, accompanied by a slurred rant.

"What do you mean I can't have another shot? I'm lieutenant-general! You have to do as I order you to!" he yelled at the bartender, stumbling as he went. Some other men tried supporting him and calming him down, reasoning that he already had too much to drink and that the bartender's run out of whiskey, but he kept on with his drunk ramblings.

"_Scheiße_…Forget this, I'm out," he hiccupped. But before he stumbled his way towards the exit, he caught sight of Germany, her crystal blue irises looking quite offended at the spectacle he had just given the crowd. With an eerie smile, he redirected himself and started making his way towards her in a predatory fashion.

"What's this? There's a chick in the bar…we don't get one of these everyday." The drunkard stumbled his way along the bar and planted himself on a vacant spot next to the unsuspecting girl.

"_Haaaallo_ there, _Fräulein_~ What's your name?" Germany was repulsed by the sight of this drunk lieutenant half slumped over the counter.

"I have no business of speaking with a drunk, thank you," she rejected him as politely as she could.

"Hey now~ don't be shy," he cooed as his hand salaciously began running itself up and down one of her thighs. Germany felt her eyebrow twitch uncontrollably; her temper only runs so far. Her fist clenched tightly before ramming itself into the offensive man's jaw, causing him to topple over on his seat and halfway into the bar. All the men around her were again taken by surprise at her boldness.

"W-woah, take it easy there, Lucia! He's just drunk!" said one as he tried helping the lieutenant back on his feet.

"Yeah, well, once you're drunk you can't go back. He should've thought of that before he took those swigs of whiskey," she scoffed, taking her second or third pint of beer. She hasn't even gone through a single peaceful hour and her presence had already caused a mess of chaos. And here comes that migraine…

Unfortunately for Germany, it seems she didn't punch her drunken offender hard enough, for he was back on his feet, still wobbly as before though, and this time, his creeper smile was replaced with an angered expression accompanied with an amoeba-shaped bruise the size of a baseball on his left cheek.

"Why, you little slut," he sneered as he grabbed the nearest pint full of beer in his reach and splashed it into the blonde's face. She gasped in horror and ran off her seat as she was drenched in beer from the waist up. She wiped the liquid away from her eyes and stared in horror at the ruined coat Italy bought for her. After such a despicable act, more men came to hold back the drunken man.

"Lieutenant, what are you doing? Sir, you can't do that to a lady!"

He struggled against those holding him back, ready to hit her when he got the chance. "Guh—let me go, dammit! I was just trying to be nice, but the incompetent bitch was asking for it!"

Now, this was pushing it. Germany was beyond appalled by the offender's words and actions. She could only hold back her anger so much. She felt her fists clench as she approached the man, ready to give him another blow in the face. She raised her fists and got close to giving him another beating in the face before she was again faced with a familiar interruption coming from behind.

"Hey, hey, what the hell's going on here?" Prussia stumbled past a crowd of men watching what was close to becoming a brawl between a drunken man and a woman. "_Ach,_ _Gott_," Germany sighed as she watched her brother stumble her way.

"You're drunk already?" she asked him, incredulous of the fact that an hour hasn't even passed and her brother already seemed beyond tipsy. "There's no way you could've drank more than three pints!"

"Well—_hic—_I had only two pints tops," Prussia gurgled. "But this one smart fella—_hic_—he mixed up a little something else for me and it was—_hic_—_wunderbar_~!" He found his way to the bar and kept balance using a nearby stool. "I pro'lly had about—_hic_—ten straight shots of that stuff and—_hic—_ma~n was it good!"

Her palm met her face. "You should know better than to just carelessly mix two kinds of liquor, let alone drink _that much_ of it!" she nagged him.

Meanwhile, the obnoxious lieutenant managed to fight his way out of captivity and made his way back to teach Germany a lesson. "Hey! Hey, _Hündin_, I ain't done with you yet!" He raised his hand, ready to strike her in the face while her guard was let down, but Prussia managed to get in his way and grabbed his wrist in time to stop him from hurting his sister anymore. He then proceeded to pierce him with his death glare.

"H-hey…let go of me, bastard! What do you think you're—" the man then used his free hand to swing a fist at Prussia's face, but he also managed to block himself from this attack. He struggled against his iron grip before Prussia pushed him away with a good amount of force, causing him to stumble back onto his rear-end a few feet away.

"I think you've—_hic_—done my cousin enough harm!" he declared, both fists rested on his hips in a stance of supremacy.

'_C-cousin?'_ Germany thought incredulously; she swore she felt her jaw touch the floor.

"C-cousin?" some of the men repeated, taken aback by this unknown fact (a fact that—unbeknownst to them—was so incredibly false). They would have all thought twice about hitting on a blood relative of the almighty Prussia if they had known. They probably would have erased the whole event entirely from their minds if ever they found out that Prussia's "cousin", Italy's "girlfriend", this cute "_Mädchen_" named Lucia was actually their commanding officer in the flesh of a woman.

"_H-Herr_ _Preußen_, if you had told us she was related to you…" some of them tried explaining, but Prussia simply brushed it off, currently focusing on the matter at hand. The offender wobbled back on his feet, shaking off all the force Prussia had exerted on him.

"And just who the hell do you think you are? Telling me what to do and what not to do," he demanded of the albino. Prussia felt a sole vein strain against his temples. Germany, too, saw it coming once she heard the words "who" and "you" in the same sentence directed at her egotistical older brother. Among many of her brother's pet peeves, one of them is those who fail to acknowledge at least the _past_ existence of a once mighty kingdom hailed _Preußen_.

"'_Who the hell am I,' _you ask?"

Prussia nonchalantly walked over to the bar and grabbed a stool. With stool in hand, he calmly approached the drunken man. Once he was a number of centimeters away from the offender, they stared at each other for a number of seconds. Then, Prussia sighed…and as suddenly as he had first announced Lucia's presence, he smashed the barstool against the offender's head as hard as his strength allowed him while drunk. The lieutenant fell straight to the floor and the entire pub was stricken with shock at his sudden and violent actions. Germany brought both hands to her mouth to cover her gasp, expressing a mix of horror and amazement upon watching her brother extravagantly knock out a drunk with a bar stool.

"Who the hell am I? _Ich bin das mächtige Preußen_! You ignorant bastard!" he yelled angrily at the now unconscious lieutenant.

"_B-bru—"_

She stopped short.

'_Cousin…right, we're cousins…'_

"G-Gilbert!" she yelled at him, quite shocked by his rash and extravagant actions. "What did you have to do _that_ for?"

Prussia began cackling his maniacal overlord laugh of victory from having recently gained the satisfaction of knocking a drunkard into the floor. After calming down, he directed the men around him, "Pick up this mess. When this bastard wakes up, let him know he's been demoted a rank and is facing a month's worth of suspension. That also includes no drinking for the rest of his term." He snapped his fingers and had the men cleaning the mess at his whim with numerous "_Ja, mein Herr._"

He then turned around to face his brother-turned-sister/cousin with a wide and cocky grin. Germany sighed and shook her head at his brashness. She was impressed though; even when drunk, Prussia was still able to display the makings of a capable leader _after_ he slams a guy in the head with a barstool. It seems like when the great Prussia is "drunk," he's actually only half-drunk with liquor and the rest of him with his usual madness.

'_As expected from my older brother, I guess,_' Germany thought with the shake of her head. Prussia stumbled his way back towards Germany, gesturing towards the exit.

"C'mon Wes—_hic_—I mean, Lucia…I think you've had enough for—_hic_—one night, eh?"

She wiped her face clean with a towel the bartender so kindly offered her. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

After tipping the bartender and bidding the gentlemen around her "_Gute Nacht,_" she followed Prussia out the door. The entire pub was frozen in place in silence as they watched the two make their way out the exit. Within a minute of their departure, the entire place cheered in an excited cry of "YEAH!"

Their night was made a truly exciting one.

::::::::::::::::::::

Halfway back home, Germany had to start supporting her brother as he walked, as enough of the mysterious mix of alcohol had already dissolved into his blood to prevent him from being able to walk at all. She had one of his arms wrapped around her neck, and her own arm wrapped around his waist to prop him up while eighty percent of his body weight leaned against her for support.

"Ahaha…We~st…you're an awesome little brother…wait, I mean sister…oh, wait…didn't I say cousin? Ahah…"

"Ugh—come on, _Bruder_…We're almost home."

They made it back home safely, quietly opening the front door so as not to wake up a certain uptight aristocrat. Germany was too tired to drag Prussia all the way up the stairs and into his booby-trap rigged bedroom, so, instead, she gently placed him down on one of the sofas in the living room, making sure he lay on his side. After making off to one of the linens closets in the house, she placed a sofa cushion under her brother's head and tucked him in nice and tight. With a sigh, she made her way towards the staircase and on her way to her bedroom, but not before hearing a jumbled slur from the bundle on the sofa.

"Mhmm…Hmm…West…" he mumbled. She turned back and crouched in front of the sofa.

"Hmm? What is it, _Bruder_?"

"West…don't…shit…no one." She gave him a confused look. To her it sounded like, "Don't shit on no one."

"Wait, say that again…"

"Mhmm…said…don't take…shit from…anyone…" he repeated in a slur. She stared at him for a little bit before standing up with a sigh. Germany took a step away from the couch to head off to her bedroom, but caught herself frozen in place, staring down at her brother's sleeping face.

She had a sudden urge to experiment.

She bent down just above Prussia's sleeping face, and planted a soft peck on his temple. The drunk albino stirred a little, then mumbled something around the lines of "Pyo~ Pyo~" Germany just used her womanly guise as an excuse to do something as ridiculous and out of character as giving her brother a light kiss of gratitude. She wouldn't have even imagined herself doing it as his brother, but she was actually very happy with what she did. Aside from reasons of defending his own ego, Germany thought it very sweet of her older brother to defend her like that. Even though life as a woman seemed to make both their lives together much more difficult than it already had been, she got to witness how much Prussia really cared for her as his younger sibling—be it brother or sister.

She finally proceeded back to her bedroom, climbing her way up the stairs, but not before taking one last glance at her sleeping bundle of a brother in the living room.

"_Gute Nacht, mein Bruder."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **i know the title for this chapter is a little corny, but i happen to find it very amusing XD it translates to "Oh, brother..." in German :P while i was proof-reading this, i totally remembered i had a German textbook that i never used that's still lying around my house :O i was supposed to sell it after i switched from German to Italian, but i kept forgetting. anyway, i took it out and i tried consulting it a little, but the fact that about 95% of it is in German and the rest of that small percentage in English, i still had a hard time (._.") (and to think it was supposed to be designed to learn a second language OTL).

also, i've been getting multiple reviews lately, and it makes me uber happy~ :D i just finished typing chapter 7 and should be heading on to chapter 8 very soon. so far, the story looks like it'll reach about 10 chapters, so i hope you guys are just as stoked about it as i am (^3^)~

i think i'll have chapter 5 up once i have chapter 8 finished (: KEEP THOSE REVIEWS COMING! PLEEEAAASE DON'T BE AFRAID TO CORRECT ME ON ANYTHING OR MAKE SUGGESTIONS! (o3o)b


	5. Heute Abend

**Chapter 5 -Heute Abend **

The still untouched cup of coffee sat on the table, silently breathing continuous streams of steam. Germany sat slumped back in her chair, her head lolled back as she blankly stared at the ceiling. A whole week had already passed since she's been like this—well, since she's been a woman, per say, and to her misfortune, she has yet to experience anything that even came _close_ to change, or, put more bluntly, anatomical reversal.

She sighed, sat back up, stared down at her coffee before tentatively picking it up and taking small sips. This morning was unusually quiet and peaceful. Firstly, she did not wake up to the intrusion of unexpected visitors. Secondly, she was not met by any obnoxious and ear-splitting objections by her brother about the skimpiness of her sleepwear that morning (she found a good pair of pajamas deep in her drawers a few nights before and have been wearing them to sleep since, in order to keep to her brother's wishes). Thirdly, she did not wake up to an Italian underneath her sheets; she hasn't woken up to this since the previous week.

Yes, this morning was definitely peaceful, more peaceful than she has experienced in the longest of times. This morning felt quite lonely, too. In fact, her past few days have been feeling very lonely. No one is around to greet her kindly and abruptly at 6am in the morning anymore, and she always has to hide from everyone else she is familiar with who doesn't live under her roof or is legally bound to her by treaty signage. Austria has never really been anything more than a bother to her, but even now he seems to be avoiding her much more often than usual. Her brother would act normally around her for a few moments before suddenly becoming so aloof that he would have to leave the room.

She gave out a melancholic sigh.

Austria is out gardening. Prussia is out and about, as usual. Times like these when there is such a lack of disturbance would provide excellent opportunities for cleaning and some extra sprucing up here and there. It looks like she has her mission assigned for the rest of the day. With a final sip of her coffee, she set the cup back on the table and suddenly stood.

"It's time to get to work, again, I guess."

::::::::::::::::::::

Before initiating a day-long cleaning date with the house, Germany went back to her bedroom, finding herself once again rummaging through her wardrobe for any old clothing that may suit her in her current form.

She's cleaning today.

Was there anything in there that would be ideal for cleaning? One would have an old t-shirt and painters' pants in mind as ideal cleaning attire, but Germany had something else in mind, something that seemed so obvious when it came to the concept of cleaning and household duties yet so unexpected when it dealt with her own person.

"Where is it? I know it should be here somewhere…"

After minutes of neatly rummaging through her wardrobe and her drawers, she finally chose to search underneath her bed, where she inevitably found said clothing stowed away in a dusty old box. She dusted off the lid with a light blow and a few motions of her fingers and lifted away at the old lid. She then lifted its contents out with both hands, snapping her wrists at it a few times to draw away all the dust and musky smell, and took a good long look at it.

Masses of black cloth, white frills with a touch of lace here and there.

Somehow France had managed to trick gullible old Germany into wearing such an atrocity a couple of years ago as an April Fools prank—he managed to blackmail him into it the previous year, too—and it didn't fail to drown him in humiliation. He shivered at the thought. But _she_ shouldn't look so bad in such an outfit. She walked up to the mirror, maid dress laid flat on her body.

A few twists of the hips here, a crane of the neck there. No doubt it will suit her just fine.

(Of course, she'll be subtracting those cat ears out of the equation.)

She just had to make sure that she would have finished all cleaning before her brother gets home. She could care less if Austria walked in from his gardening session to find her in a maid's getup—she could only tell him off so much. But after the way Prussia reacted to her diary entry concerning her appeal for maid outfits, and considering the fact that he nearly objects to anything she decides to wear, being caught in such attire in plain sight _cleaning_ the house is just asking him for trouble. Germany should get some sort of satisfaction for this curse of a female guise, which includes taking in the little mild kink she just happens to have for maid dresses.

::::::::::::::::::::

Considering the enormous amounts of time spent while in war, Germany finally realizes how valuable it is to have free time in one's hands—in just a few hours, her large house had become completely spotless. As meticulous as she may be when it came to proper sanitation, never has she gotten the chance to eradicate every dust bunny from every nook and cranny in the house. If that weren't enough, she also managed to organize her office so well that there was neither a single file nor a sheet of paper out of place. Most of her efforts were placed on her brother's bedroom, which just about required a hazmat suit and a gasmask at the very least, but even _that_ area of the house was left completely organized and spotless—the sea of clothes that covered the bedroom floor were either put away in his drawers and closet or in a hamper (it took her so much courage to even lean into a shirt she picked up from the floor, let alone _smell it_, which numerous times brought on the risk of adding vomit into the mess) and all his random knick-knacks were neatly organized along his shelves. Cleaning Prussia's room was probably the biggest mission Germany had ever accomplished on her own. It's as if the entire house sparkled from the inside out, and it only took her until mid-afternoon to get the job done.

With practically the rest of the year's cleaning duties off the list, Germany found herself with even more free time. She graciously fell upon the nearest loveseat in her living room, leaned back, and stared at the cream-colored ceiling above her, tracing the intricate Baroque mouldings with her eyes. There was something seemingly important she had in mind, but somehow it managed to escape her. She focused on her quiet, steady breathing, feeling her chest softly rise and fall, as she glanced out the window, relishing in the warm afternoon glow that seeped through, the branches of an apple tree softly scraping against the window as the breeze whistled through them. Her lids began to feel heavy, eyelashes slowly fluttering as they started giving in to its weight.

'_Italy's always rambling on about his siestas,'_ she thought. _'I have time—let's see what all the fuss is…'_ She yawned softly. _'…all about…'_

She felt her lids fall to a close as she slowly allowed herself to fall into a soft slumber…

"Hehehe~ Germany looks really cute!"

Just when she was about to enter her dream world, Germany sprang up with an uncharacteristic "Eep!" unaware of Italy's entrance.

"Why are you wearing the maid dress France gave you?" he asked her with much fascination. At first, she stuttered heavily, considering how much the Latin boy had caught her off guard, leaning over her reclined form so closely. She abruptly sat up, unconsciously yanking her mid-thigh length skirt further down as her cheeks were set ablaze, slightly mortified at her current appearance while her ally sat beside her. Oh, how she hated visitors.

"Umm…well, I was jus—just doing some chores and—well…and this, umm…" she fingered the lacy hem of her skirt, making efforts to conjure up a rational explanation for her appearance. However, Italy didn't seem to care much for the ridicule Germany had caused herself—he really believed she looked rather cute in the maid dress.

"Maybe Germany should wear this dress more often," he suggested lightheartedly with a giggle.

Her cheeks were on fire.

"H-hey! What kind of weird things are you—ah…"

Before she could finish demanding of the boy, she looked up at him only to have him caught her off guard again, this time with his wide maroon eyes locking with her crystal blue ones. The weight of his gaze had her lost and fumbling for words—the fact that they were actually open came as enough of a shock to the unsuspecting German beauty. It took her a couple of moments to gather her composure and muster enough willpower to break away from his gaze.

"W-what are you looking at, Italy?" she grumbled, still awkwardly fumbling with the hem of her skirt, cheeks still set ablaze.

Italy seemed to have been in some sort of a trance with her—he shook his head rapidly a couple of times as if to break from his trance.

"Ah—Ve…I was just thinking about something, but…nevermind," he explained with a wave of a hand as if to brush away the subject.

Germany was a little concerned about that response, considering the heavy gaze he'd laid on her just moments ago and the fact that she was still clad in her ridiculously skimpy maid dress.

'_Just what it was exactly that was going on in his mind, I'm not sure I want to find out.'_

But what was there to worry about? Italy is a man of simple joys and pure love—much purer than that of, say, France's, at least. She managed to convince herself that Italy is not the kind that would have lascivious thoughts of a woman. Despite his heavily flirtatious nature, he is very respectful of women.

"Germany," Italy suddenly called, bringing her out of her thoughts, "whenever you go out, what do you like doing?"

She saw this as a peculiar question. "Umm…well, I don't go out much except for maybe a pint or two, but…" She shrugged. "I don't go out much, you know that," she bashfully reminded him.

Italy put a finger to his lips in thought. "Well, you like wine, right?"

She considered it. "It's not my usual pint, but…I have a glass of wine every now and then whenever Austria takes out a bottle, so sure."

"What kind of wine do you usually drink?"

"I…I might be more of a red wine kind of person…if that's what you're wondering…"

He nodded a few times, his eyes averted in thought. "Mmhm, okay…"

A pause.

"…Ocean or vineyards?"

At this point, she was a little annoyed. "Okay, hold it right there!" she abruptly yelled out, bringing up her palms as if in defense. "What is this? You come in my house and interrupt my nap only to throw odd questions at my direction. What are you planning exactly?"

Italy sat quiet for a second, a breath of "Ve" seeping out. Then, he giggled. Germany was only left all the more confused and suspicious. With an energetic sigh, Italy leaned back on his side of the loveseat, staring blissfully at the ceiling as he conjured up a brilliant answer: "Well, I want to know what Germany likes, so that when I ask her out on a date, I know where to take her." And with that he turned his head her direction and flashed a sweet smile.

She was taken aback by his explanation behind all his questioning, and even more by her own obliviousness. Wine? Landscapes? "Going out?" She _would_ be oblivious to all this. Although she may have changed genders in the meantime, much of her personality stayed the same. But now lay the real issue, the fact that she was actually being asked out on a date…by her partner-in-battle. "You—You're asking me out on a _date_?" she questioned, stating the very obvious.

"Hehe, I haven't asked you yet!" he playfully replied. Suddenly, Italy sat up, cleared his throat, and then twisted his torso to fully face the girl beside him as he took her hands into his. "Germany, I'm having dinner tomorrow night, if you would care to join me."

Now, Germany was shocked at how unusually mature his approach to the situation was. Before she could give him an answer, she cleared her throat, as her calculating side reared its cold and ugly head. "You know, technically that wasn't a question."

Italy just giggled, approaching her usually cold and calculating demeanor with lightheartedness. "Ve~ I know, but I learned that women neither liked being asked nor do they like being forced to do something, whether they later decide they appreciate it or not."

As a man, Germany has never had a chance to be with or the time to even consider being with another woman (Hungary is an exception—their relationship never even reached those lines), so he wouldn't have even considered such a theory. It only made her realize all the more how ambiguous women can really be. She really hopes some odd female characteristics like ambiguity don't pass on to his male form.

"But then again," Italy continued. "Germany is still the same—he's only a 'she' right now, so maybe it doesn't matter how I 'ask' you…" He was just thinking out loud. "Okay, then what if I just plainly ask you: 'Would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?'"

Germany was actually still lost for an answer, despite having been asked two different ways already. Amidst her flabbergast, Italy kept rambling on. "Ve~ Either way works right? Maybe one seems more demanding than the other. Or maybe it's just that when put as a question, it's more—"

"Hold up right there!" she interrupted him quite abrasively, causing the poor boy to cower back in fear. "Vee! If you don't want to go out, that's fine too!" he retaliated.

"No, no—it's not that," she explained, shaking her head rapidly. "I mean…you do realize you're asking out your superior to a night out, right? Don't you think that's reaching a bit outside of ethical boundaries?"

Italy stared at her. "Ve…Leave it to someone like Germany to think of a formal excuse like that."

"Gah—'excuse'? I—I…umm…" She can't deny him that it was partly an excuse. She's just that kind of person to bring up weird "ethical" and business-type issues like that. Also, she really just doesn't know how to answer to a night out. She's tried it one year for Valentine's Day with Italy when she was still male, and _boy_, how great that Valentine's turned out to be. It was hard enough for him to do the asking at the time, but now that it's _she_ who's being asked, the tables have been turned on her, and she has no idea how to react to it.

"And besides," Italy continued, breaking her trance of embarrassment. "Right now, Germany's a really pretty girl—my really pretty 'girlfriend,' Lucia, to say the least—and I think pretty girls deserve to be taken out for a great night, don't you think so?"

"I…I don't know, but…I see the logic in it…" It's as if she were already accepting his offer.

"So, you agree?"

"Huh? Agree with what?"

"That you'll go on a date with me?"

Still fumbling with the lacy hem of her skirt, cheeks glowing red under her fair skin, Germany tried to still herself from her anxiety, so as to give the boy a clear and precise answer.

"I…I…hmm…I—I, umm, well…I don't know if I have plans or…" She looked up and took a quick glance. Italy was looking very eager. It would be a pity if she let him down now, considering how many times she has let him down before. With all her might, she gave him her honest answer.

"I—I'd l-love to…to g-go out with you, Italy."

He nearly leapt with joy. "Really? You'll go out with me tomorrow night?"

She cleared her throat and yanked at her collar, which for some reason all of a sudden felt suffocating. "Uhh…Y-yeah…It sounds—erm…rather nice, ehehe…"

Normally, when Germany tries to express kindness or a willingness to agree to something embarrassing or way out of his comfort zone, his entire face would strain so much that it gave off the most threatening and deathly demeanor. However, the much softer contours of her face only made her look beautifully vulnerable…nonetheless, in a somewhat awkward way. But that didn't stop Italy from noticing the beautiful blush spreading across her apple cheeks and the look of worry spread across her soft brow. She looked too cute, and he couldn't keep from advancing.

Since she was still so very flustered over the entire situation, it was too late for her to notice Italy's movements. By the time she regained focus of her surroundings, he had already pressed himself against her torso, putting the both of them into an awkward position—Germany leaning back on the arm of the loveseat, caged on both sides by Italy's arms. What grabbed most of her attention was the fact that his face was just centimeters from her own, the warmth of his lips radiating against hers. Their eyes were locked once more, their breathing steady and synchronized, her chest rising in sync against his. She felt as if she could drown in the intensity of his gaze. After what seemed like many moments of such intimate proximity, she was surprised she hadn't pushed him off yet—something kept her in place, almost making her feel like she didn't want him to leave her. And yet, they both remained still, waiting to see who would make the first move.

"I-Italy…?" she whispered.

"Ve…Germany," he breathed out. "You look…"

There was a weird feeling in her stomach—anxiety, anticipation, she wasn't sure, but she was waiting for something. But, much to her relief—or maybe disappointment—Italy pulled back and awkwardly gulped. "Ve…Sorry," he apologized sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I don't know what got in to me."

She straightened up, recovering from the heavy anticipation. "That—uhh…Don't worry about it." There was an awkward silence that followed, each of them sitting on their end of the loveseat. Germany tried to break the silence. "Umm…So, what time tomorrow?"

"Ve…Should I pick you up at five tomorrow?"

She nodded and slowly offered a small smile. "_Ja_…Five sounds good."

He smiled and nodded, as well. "Good."

For a moment, there was a light airiness and sense of comfort between them, but it was quickly interrupted by an explosion of familiar obnoxious laughter right outside the front door. Germany sprang up, fisting her hair in frantic realization that her brother had come home early and she was still clad in a ridiculous maid dress. "_Scheiße_! _Bruder_'s home!" Out of instinct, she briskly grabbed Italy by the arm and lifted him off his seat, causing him to cry out with a shrill "Ve!"

"Okay…keep him distracted while I go upstairs and change," she ordered him.

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" Italy saluted, running out towards the front door as Germany ran upstairs. He managed to nearly run right into Prussia as he entered through the front door, catching him by surprise.

"I-Italy! What brings you here in my awesome presence?"

"Ve~ I was just checking on Germany to see if she was busy and—"

From upstairs, there was what sounded like glass and wood crashing, and a very frustrated and high-pitched cry of "_Verdammt_!"

"What the hell…"

"Umm," Italy continued in efforts to distract him from the commotion Germany was causing upstairs, but he could only keep him busy for so long. "Well, Prussia, I'll be back tomorrow." With that, he hurried past him and out the door.

"Tomorrow?" he repeated in confusion. "Okay, uhh…well, then...see you tomorrow, I guess!" And with another shrill burst laughter, shut the door behind him. As Italy was heading on home, anticipating his date with a German beauty, he had barely walked half a block when he heard a bloodcurdling cry from behind him back at Germany's house.

"WEESST! WHAT THE FUCK!"

"BRUDER! T-TURN AROUND, I'M NOT DONE CHANGING YET!"

"AAGHH!"

"…I hope Germany doesn't kill me tomorrow," he thought with a shiver as he walked on home.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Baby S_chwester_! What do you want to eat for dinner?" Prussia called out from downstairs.

"Tomorrow night" came much faster than she expected. Germany was in her bedroom, rummaging once more through her wardrobe now full of designer women's clothing in hopes of finding something "date appropriate." But Prussia's questions about a homemade dinner—which always proved to be a threat to her health—made her realize that Italy might not have told him about their dinner date while on his way out the previous afternoon, and that definitely made her nervous. She's not sure how her overprotective brother would react to his brother-turned-sister going out on a date with a boy. Their relationship was already strained enough since her transformation. Maybe she'll try to let him on easy. Besides, Germany's pretty confident she can assert herself against her brother, even as a female.

"Uh, _Bruder_ don't start on anything yet, I'll help with dinner!"

"Huh? Ah, okay, whatever floats your boat!"

Just after she had gotten his volume-excessive response from downstairs, Germany finally found something that seemed appropriate for a night out. Kind of think of it, having found something this conveniently appropriate amidst the throngs of designer clothing Italy had bought for her that day made it seem like he had planned on this night way back already. In her hands, she held up a simple black dress. When held up the way she did, it looked like nothing more than an oversized black tunic, but when she tried it on, it was more than just an oversized tunic—the way it graciously draped on her figure was very flattering and greatly complimented her curves. The neckline was high enough to cover up to the top of her breasts, keeping it modest, but also low enough to provide just enough exposure of her long neck and delicate collarbone, almost teasingly. It was neither too long nor too short, the hem just reaching right at mid-thigh, exposing just enough of her long, lean legs. The dress was just her style—definitely not flashy, without too much exposure, just a simple and modest yet most definitely sexy dress. All it needed was some accessorizing, and the look would be complete. As she rummaged through some of the accessories Italy had bought her from numerous pricey boutiques, the wonder of how she had all of a sudden become such a modest fashionista ran through her mind. But those thoughts were overshadowed by her anticipation towards her date with Italy that was fast approaching.

"I hope I'll look presentable…" she whispered worryingly to herself.

::::::::::::::::::::

"West! Where you at? I'm getting hungry here! Let's just start on dinner and…ah…"

Just as Prussia was making his way upstairs from the kitchen, he was stopped in his tracks by his little sister, who stood in his way on the steps clad in her little black dress, complete with the same golden belt she wore when she last went shopping with Italy, lace gloves, a chunky gold watch, and black high-heeled oxfords. In one of her hands, she held a gold quilted pocketbook, with the double-C Chanel insignia buttoned on the front. She decided to go without the clip-on earrings and necklaces—what she had on was just right. Stopping right in the middle of the staircase, she stared down at her brother who stood at the foot of the staircase with a look of mild confusion.

"Are you gonna yell at me again?" she provoked him.

Prussia kept on a serious look. He then sighed, crossing his arms. "You don't look like much of a slut right now, so I'm not gonna yell at you."

Germany was comically offended by his answer. "Wha—What?"

"But!" he continued, raising up an intense finger. "My question now is: What are you planning, dressed up all fancy like that?"

She sighed in hesitation. She's hoping he wouldn't object to her plans for the night—it would definitely disappoint Italy, but it would surely disappoint her, as well. "I…have a date with…Italy, tonight," she slowly and shyly explained to him. "That's…why he came over, yesterday…to ask me out, and…well…" She started twiddling her fingers out of nervousness.

"Oh _Gott_, don't tell me he's the reason why you were half-dressed in your maid suit yesterday!"

"_N-NEIN_!_Neineineineinein!_" That had nothing to do with it!" she retaliated, her face burning hot as she rapidly waved her hands and shook her head in disagreement. Those terrible memories of the night before: she had made it to her bedroom, but Italy didn't make long enough of a diversion, so Prussia ended up barging in her bedroom in the middle of her undressing from the maid dress. As much as she wanted to erase the entire scenario from her mind, she would keep in mind that her brother was mostly at fault for the accidental peep show for forgetting to knock in the first place, as most polite men—who also are considerate enough to leave the toilet seat down for a woman in the house—would. Then again, whoever said her brother was "polite?"

"A-anyway," she continued, "it's 4:30 right now, and he's picking me up around 5, so…" More finger-twiddling ensued. At first Prussia continued staring at her with a blank look on his face, his arms still crossed. It continued like this for a few moments, until he broke the silence with a snort that expanded into an explosion of nasal laughter. He managed to successfully offend his little sister once more.

"Wha-What's so funny? I'm being completely serious here!"

"Ahah! Ah! Oh man…Yeah, I know you are, you always are, but…" Another burst of laughter ensued. "It's just that—the idea of you going on a _date_, it's just…BUHAHAHA!"

"W-Well, this isn't the first time I've gone on a date, remember?" she retaliated, with the whole Valentine's Day episode in mind. There's no way he could have forgotten _that_ one.

"_Mein Gott_, and you'd think I'd forget that year? I forged an entire psychiatry book just to mess up that pompous aristocrat, but I didn't think it was _you_ who needed psycho therapy! Pfff…"

He slowly calmed down from his laughter session, all the while Germany glared at him, her face still burning red from humiliation. There's not much she can say about her episode with Italy from that previous Valentine's Day—in fact, she couldn't even remember the last smidgets of it after she had so terribly "proposed" to Italy. With much of her memory lost in the chaos of that night, she decided to just forget the whole thing ever happened, which proved to be considerably difficult in itself, especially on an evening so terribly similar.

"At least this time I know better," Germany replied. "And Italy is the one doing the asking this time. At least now it makes more sense, right?"

"Haha, yeah," Prussia agreed. "At least this time, it makes much more sense," he said with a playful wink. Germany just looked away, greatly annoyed with her brother at this point.

"Anyway," he continued, "I guess I'll just make dinner for myself. I'll wait for little Italy to come over and pick you up." With that settled, he made his way back into the kitchen. Germany was quite surprised he let her go so easily.

"Wait—so you're actually letting me go?" she asked him, just to ensure he wasn't playing her.

"Yeah, sure…did you _not_ want me to let you go?"

"No! It's not that! It's just…I didn't think you'd let me off so easy."

He shrugged. "Italy's a good kid, so he's found favor with the mighty Prussia. Kudos for him!" He made his remarks as if Italy had won the Nobel Peace Prize or something of similar status. "And besides," he continued, "If something bad were to happen to _him_, you'll be there to protect him." He added with a short burst of laughter, to which she mockingly joined in as she followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat by the dining table.

"So, you have about half an hour left. What are you gonna do now?" he asked her. "Read that dating book you bought last year?" he mockingly asked her.

She scoffed. "Be quiet. I burned that book some time ago." She rested her head on her left hand, Prussia eyeing her suspiciously.

"…Are you sure about that?"

A moment of silence….

"…No."

With that she stood up and went to look for that blasted manual. "I have time. I might as well review it, just in case," she said with a slight hint of humiliation.

Prussia laughed. "Good ol' West," he said affectionately under his breath.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Let's see, let's see… ve…I hope I didn't forget anything."

Italy was rummaging through his pockets, in hopes that everything he needed for the night was on his person, and checking his reflection as he passed by a few shops, to make sure he looked presentable. As he passed by the flower shop, he had realized that he was without an appropriate greeting gift, and decided to stop by and buy some flowers really quick. He was kindly greeted by the florist, "_Feliciano! Buona sera, il mio amico!_"

"_Buona sera, signore!_" he replied. "Can I get your largest, sweetest-smelling bouquet, _per favore_?"

"Ah, _si, si_, _piacere_." The florist stepped aside and grabbed a beautiful bouquet of roses and lilies. "What is the occasion tonight, my boy?"

"Ah, tonight?" He giggled out of excitement. "I'm taking out a German beauty tonight!"

"Ohoho! _Una ragazza tedesca_," the florist remarked with surprise. "A blonde bombshell, I suppose? Where'd you score such a valuable treasure?"

"_Si_, a blonde bombshell indeed!" Italy replied with such remarks that would make Germany strangle him with no mercy if she had heard any of it. "And I happened to have met her while I was at Ludwig's house."

"Ah, what a lucky boy you are! You have fun, then, my boy! Don't let her overbearing strength crush you with intimidation," he teased him. Italy merely laughed nervously—Germany is more than capable of crushing him, PERIOD.

"_Grazie, signore!_ Well, I have to go. My date is waiting for me."

"Alright, you take care," he sent his blessings with a playful wink as Italy headed on to Germany's house.

With a beautiful bouquet in hand and clad in his most snapping Fendi blazer, complete with a light and crinkled blue Burberry scarf and his best Prada loafers—a crisp look fit for the mild spring air—he was more than ready for this date, and he was definitely looking forward to it. For a moment, he felt unstoppable and oh so powerful, that in a few minutes he'd be taking out the most beautiful, oh so curvaceous German bombshell out for a date. But what flew right above his head was his timing, which didn't hit him until he had reached Germany's doorstep and rang her doorbell. Upon Prussia opening the front door for him, Italy was also met by the most welcoming and loving greeting from his beautiful date:

"ITALY! YOU'RE LATE! IT'S ALREADY PUSHING 6PM!"

"VEE! I'm so sorry Germany! I lost track of time!"

"Oh, happy days!" Prussia interjected, putting his arm around Italy's shoulder. "I can already tell you guys are gonna have a _great_ night!"

Germany snorted, standing up and aggressively picking up her pocketbook as she slammed her old dating manual on the coffee table. While she stopped by the nearest coat closet, Prussia pulled Italy aside for a short discussion. "So, where are you taking the tightwad?"

Italy flinched at his use of the word "tightwad." "Well, I already have a place reserved, but I was thinking about taking her first to the—" Before he could finish explaining his plans, Prussia managed to interrupt him

"Alrightthatsoundsgreat, so hey, I don't mind you taking my tightwad sister out, but I just have one condition for you."

"Oh, okay, what is it?" Italy asked him with much curiosity.

Prussia wagged a lecturing finger at his face. "My sister better come home a virgin."

"BRUDER!"

To Prussia's misfortune, Germany had already grabbed a coat and was within earshot when her brother uttered such mortifying conditions. Poor Italy was beet red and sweating with anxiety amidst the awkwardness between the three of them. Germany on the other hand, was just blazing red with a mix of anger and sheer humiliation.

"Alright, have fun, you two!" With an encouraging pat on Italy's shoulder, Prussia made an extremely quick escape upstairs before Germany could lay her murderous hands on him.

With the unlikely couple left alone, they were given a moment to eye each other, Germany doing so rather threateningly, still slightly annoyed that her date had arrived nearly an hour later than he had originally told her. To lighten her mood, he remembered his beautiful bouquet of roses and lilies and decided to use that to his advantage.

"H-here's some flowers for the beautiful lady!"

He briskly handed her the flowers, anxious of how she'll still feel about him for the time being. Although a look of annoyance was still slightly evident in her face, she nonetheless took the flowers from his hands, eying them for a few seconds.

'_Red roses_…' she thought with slight despair, the dreaded misunderstanding of Italy's previous "confession" of love flashing through her mind. However, since she's playing as Italy's "girlfriend" in the meantime, the meaning of these roses doesn't seem as bad as it used to. Germany also appreciates how the roses are downplayed by the white lilies. She brought them to her face and gave the bouquet a slight sniff, closing her eyes in appreciation of its sweet scent. With half her face hidden behind the bouquet, she cast her eyes down on the Latin boy in front of her, making him flinch very slightly.

"They're beautiful," she mentioned dryly. She then proceeded back to the coffee table for the nearest empty vase to place the bouquet in. "Wait a moment while place these in some water," she kindly asked him.

Italy silently saluted out of habit. It only took Germany a minute to return with a vase full of water, roses, and lilies. After delicately placing the vase in the center of the coffee table, she then approached her date. Her glide was surprisingly graceful in her high heels, despite the fact that it had only been a week since she tried on stilettos for the first time. On her face was a very expectant look.

"Well? Shall we go?" she asked him, her tone so very serious. It's obvious she's still a little bitter with his tardiness. His laid-back Latin lifestyle had always clashed with her uptight German punctuality. Despite her current cold demeanor towards his first mistake of the night, Italy couldn't help but feel bothered instead by the heavy black coat that's concealing her black dress. It's unfair to him to be unable to admire her figure while it's hidden under a heavy coat so unfit for the middle of March.

"Ve…Germany, won't you get warm too quickly under that coat?"

"I don't want to risk getting a cold while we're out," she explained. "And besides, if it gets too warm, I can just hold it."

"No, that's not how it works!" he passionately disagreed. "That's why I wore a blazer today, so that if you get cold during the night, I can lend you mine."

Germany blushed a little bit. After all this time, maybe she still didn't fully understand the workings of a "proper" date. "Oh, I-I see…S-so is that how it works…?"

"Of course!" Italy replied enthusiastically. "Besides," he added, approaching her. "I don't want that oversized coat distracting you during our date if you have to lug it around in your arms." With that, he brought his hands around her collar of her coat, gently tugging it off her shoulders.

"Wha—What are you…"

She slightly opposed his actions, but nonetheless allowed him to remove her coat and ungraciously chuck it onto the nearest couch. She thought about lecturing his sloppiness and disregard for her furniture, but had enough discipline to keep from doing so—it would only make the poor boy even more uncomfortable and the both of them more nervous.

"There," he said softly. "Now, doesn't that feel much better?" he asked her, taking a few steps back to admire her now revealed outfit and overall beauty. His eyes travelled up and down all along her delicately draped figure—from her fair and delicious neckline travelling along her lean legs to her stylishly appropriate black oxfords, and then all the way back up to her blue irises. Meanwhile, she stood there, shifting awkwardly under his travelling gaze. Watching him eye her figure was a little too embarrassing for her that she had to look away to hide the pink shade of shame rapidly spreading across her cheeks. Italy only found her bashfulness all the more complementing to her overall appearance.

"Germany, you look really good tonight," he said barely above a whisper, sincerity laced with a hint of desire clearly draped in his voice. Amidst his admiration, he suddenly remembered a certain trinket safely placed in his pocket.

"Ah! Germany, I have something for you," he mentioned as he excitedly rummaged through the deep pockets of his slim khakis.

"I found it in a boutique on the way home and I couldn't help but think of you. I was hoping it would look great with your outfit."

Out of his pocket, he pulled out a bejeweled iron cross in the form of a pin. Germany was surprised and most definitely flattered that he'd managed to find such a trinket just for her. Italy then attempted to gently place the pin on the right side of her scooped neckline, but—upon realizing how dangerously close his fingers were to her breasts—suddenly got a case of butterfingers and accidently pricked her, making her gasp lightly.

"Waah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he cried. He didn't prick her hard enough to draw blood or annoy her, but Germany did notice from the corner of her eye her older brother suspiciously peeking from behind a wall to make sure Italy wouldn't do anything fishy. With a sigh, she gently grabbed Italy's wrist before he got a chance to accidently prick her for a second time or worse, accidently place his hands in the wrong places.

"Here, I'll put it on myself."

"O-Okay…"

She took the iron cross from his hands and neatly pinned it on the right side of her dress. Germany was never much of a fan of bejeweling, but the pin fit her nicely—it was a great indicator of her pride just feminine enough for the time being.

"D-do you like it?" Italy asked her nervously.

She smiled in response. "I love it."

From the corner of her eye, she spied Prussia slowly retreat from behind the wall. She assumed he was satisfied with what he saw and that certainly nothing fishy had been going on between them. Italy, in the meantime, was ecstatic that he was able to make up for his first mistake of the night. With that, he offered up his right hand to her.

"Shall we go, _signorina_?"

Germany smiled and took his hand. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **chapter title = "Tonight" (: first date, here we come! throughout their date i'll be referring very often to the "Buon San Valentino" strips—i feel like it gives the narration some extra perspective, especially since Italy's the one playing the role of the "good lover" this time, which means there will be some HRExChibitalia references—i hope you guys won't mind that. XD

and remember my notes in the 3rd chapter, when i said whatever i dressed fem!Germany in i'd probably wear myself? well, last night i was on my way to a friend's birthday party—i took a quick look at my outfit (LINK: bit . ly/iD6blY) and realized with much giddiness that it looked very similar to what i dressed Germany in for her first date. i swear, it was pure coincidence XD i only wore the belt to keep the shawl wrapped around my dress, but it ended up looking like it was part of the actual dress, so i kept it on (: and then there was another dress i found while shopping in this boutique (which was coincidentally based in Munich)—if ever she went clubbing somewhere underground in the middle of Berlin (lol what a situation) i'd picture her wearing this (LINK: bit . ly/joUNpO) :3 sorry, sharing dresses makes me excited "OTL

anyway, i said i'd post this chapter once i finished chapter 8, which i barely started—i'll finish 8 first and then post chapter 6, i guess.

thanks so much to all who review! your reviews mean so much more to me than facebook notifications! :D


	6. Kuss

**A/N**: i usually write my notes AFTER the chapter, but there are just a few things i want to address before you read on with fluff-obsessed excitement. first, if you speak German, that chapter title may spoil your fun a little XD (but you totally saw it coming anyway, right? :P). second, i got a review from **blackbleedingroses53 **that i _really_ wanted to reply to—like, honestly, it was killing me that i couldn't since you didn't have an FF account (;A;) so i thought i should take the opportunity to at least respond to that [**I HOPE YOU WON'T BE TOO LAZY TO READ NOTES THIS TIME! :D**] :

**:::** first off, i'm glad you like it :D. alright, so about their relationship and Italy's changed behavior—when the whole situation first started out, it was more of a "well, you already said it so i have no choice but to go with it" kind of thing for the both of them. Germany's actually not surprised when Italy started acting differently around her b/c she knows how he is around women—you can tell she doesn't act any differently around him (which, i should mention, would change soon enough :P), so that's one way of seeing how she doesn't make a fuss over his behavior around her much. she sees this relationship more as a favor for Italy at first (a favor that she enjoys doing, herself), and doesn't take it seriously until later on. it _will_ have an effect on her at some point. when you read this chapter you will notice how caught up she is in the moment b/c she had already noticed these feelings she has with Italy some time back when they briefly went out for that Valentine's Day, and the fact that they are sharing such intimate moments will simply just (sorry if this sounds corny) make her lose all logic temporarily :P. but when the very idea of possibly being "in love" starts registering in her mind, she will start pondering over their relationship even more, and eventually she _will_ question it—that actually happens about a couple of chapters later. they _will_ bring up the Valentine's Day episode—with the situation they've put themselves in, it would be a little hard to ignore. however, they're only gonna be doing it little by little, like mentioning some tiny specifics here and there in comparison to how their date turns out, but it may as well expand when she starts doing deeper comparisons as to why Italy acts so differently in each of those situations.

as for Italy, it is really something to think about, why it is that he only started showing affection for her now that Germany's a she, and yes, i agree it does make him seem a bit like a db. but it's to emphasize his character—he's known to act up around women and Germany turning female will kind of reveal to him a new perspective he has of him (err—_her_). but it will also question his integrity—you're right, why hasn't he shown Germany this kind of affection _before_ he became the way he did? to me, there's two ways of looking at it: either Germany turning female just triggers something deep inside him that makes him realize that he, too, is actually in love with him—that his one-time female "phase" was just something to help propel these hidden feelings, b/c to me he seems to be the bi-curious type, since he does admit to his first love being a boy even though he acts like he's really into girls—OR he's only in love with "Lucia" and that Germany's female guise only led him to believe that he was in love with him (believe me, that would probably hurt him just as much as it would kill Germany—not only would he have led Germany on, but in a sense he would have led himself on, as well). the answer to that is reserved for later chapters (;

I HOPE I SATISFIED YOU WITH THAT ANSWER AND I HOPE YOU CONTINUE READING AND LOVING THIS STORY. :D **:::**

with all that said and done, please enjoy this cloud-9 fluffy chapter of what should be my life-changing date when my future fiance proposes to me in Florence. "OTL

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 6 - Kuss<span>**

Although the untimely Italian boy was inevitably late for their first date, the sun was still shining along the red-shingled roofs of Florence by the time the couple reached cobblestone pavements. At this time of year, the sun basked in its own presence and refused to set for hours on end. Germany was very grateful for the season as it allowed her to bask in Mediterranean sunshine for a few hours longer. She was so preoccupied with the amount of precious warmth that her fair skin was so greedily absorbing that she failed to notice Italy gently grabbing her hand. It wasn't until she felt the radiating heat of amorous Latin skin seeping through her lace glove and into her palm when she became self-conscious. They were holding hands like a real couple should, and her awareness of it made her blush and fidget a little.

"Ve…Germany, what do you feel like eating tonight?"

"Don't call me by that! We're in public!" she scolded him.

"Ve! Sorry! Erm—what do you feel like eating tonight, _Lucia_?"

She grimaced slightly at her pet name, but there's nothing she can do about it. "Well, considering we're at your place, I don't think I have any other choice but to go with pasta…"

"If you had a choice at all, you've definitely made a good one!"

With that, he yanked her arm down cobblestone pavement through alleyways and passers-by curious as to who the oddly-contrasting yet good-looking couple running amuck through the streets was.

"I-Italy! Where are you taking me?"

"Ve! Trust me; I already have this great place ready for us!"

She replied back in annoyance, "Well, what was the point of asking me what I wanted to—_waah_!"

They ran past other couples enjoying their night, Germany trying her best to keep from breaking a heel or two along cobblestone ridges—the Latin boy would not slow down. They ran past countless bistros and cafes, paying no attention to any single one of them. While in the middle of a maze of rustic alleyways, Italy led her through an arched doorway leading up to a staircase. "Follow me this way," he told her. Even as they were walking up the narrow staircase, he refused to release her hand, afraid that she might miss a step or something. "Watch your step," he would say.

"I-Italy, where are you taking me anyway?" she demanded him, halfway stumbling on the steps. Although it was of the best intentions, if he could just let go of her hand she would be able to safely and properly walk upstairs. He just giggled in response. "We're almost there," he reassured her. "I'm sure you'll love it!" By the time he told her that, they had made it to the top of the staircase, and were met by a well-groomed waiter behind a podium.

"_Buona sera, i signori_," he greeted them. "Do you have a reservation tonight?"

"_Si~ _Under 'Vargas,' _per favore_," Italy replied enthusiastically.

"Ah, _Vargas, Vargas_, hmm…"

The waiter trailed a finger down his clipboard, flipping another page before finding the right name. "Hmm, _Vargas…_aha! Well then," the waiter took a couple of menus before leading them to the aged wooden door right behind him.

"Right this way."

He opened the door for the couple, politely motioning them inside—or outside, rather. The place Italy had led Germany was actually an outdoor rooftop restaurant. As they walked further into the restaurant, she was met by the breathtaking view that the maze of rustic alleyways had led them to. They ended up in the outskirts of Florence, where the restaurant overlooked the rolling hills, the patches of vineyards, and the rows of cypress trees that make up the beautiful sun-kissed province of Tuscany. It was a gorgeous sight that was worth all the time admiring. Germany actually found herself walking towards the railing that overlooked the region, mindlessly admiring the countless rows of cypress trees and the late sun looking just above the rolling hills. With a sigh, she leaned on her hands, gazing outwards like a daydreaming little girl—she feels she's killed enough men to deserve to awake to a view like this every morning. It wasn't until Italy lightly grabbed her arm when she was broken from her trance.

"Ve…_Toscana_ is beautiful, isn't it? But it'll look much better from where we're sitting."

He flashed another one of his sweet smiles her direction. She blushed—embarrassed that she had lost herself to Tuscany's beauty and her date's oddly beautiful smile. "O-Okay," she quietly replied, once again letting him take her hand and follow the waiter's lead. They were led through closely placed dinner tables, sometimes having to squeeze through tight spaces between dining guests. Their table ended up being in a private area, away from the crowded floor amidst diners, waiters, and dining tables. It sat on a separate platform of its own, a few small staircases away from the main floor of the restaurant, covered by a rustic wooden vine trellis held up by crisp-white Etruscan columns, draped with vines and strings of artificial lights. Each side of the trellis had a copper torch to blaze away the chilly evening coming its way.

"There you are, _signor_ Vargas—table for two."

The waiter motioned over to their seats, their table already set and candlelit. Italy rushed over to one chair to offer Germany her seat. She kindly offered her gratitude with a timid nod of the head and a quiet "_Danke_." Just as Italy was heading over to the opposite side of the table, the waiter approached him. "_La_ _Sua ragazza_," he said barely above a whisper, as his eyes motioned to Germany's side of the table. "_È tedesca, no_?" She raised an eyebrow—she knew her bits and pieces of Italian, after all.

"_Si, è _molto_ tedesca_," he replied with emphasis on the word "molto," Germany noticed.

She heard the waiter chuckle suggestively yet humorously. "_La Sua è anche _molto_ bella_, _signor Vargas_. Good for you!" he exclaimed, giving him an "ok" hand sign and a wink. Germany couldn't keep from blushing, so she instead turned her head to the side, distracting herself with the medley of Tuscan vineyards in the view. With the breadbasket and olive oil ready, and his comments spoken and done, the waiter finally left them to themselves, flashing Italy another wink of approval. "I will return in a few minutes for your orders, _i signori._" Once he made his leave, Germany let out a sigh of relief as her blush slowly receded.

"I don't appreciate that waiter talking about me _right next to me_. He's not getting tip," she mentioned bitterly as she aggressively tore apart half a loaf of bread from the breadbasket.

"Aww, come on Germany, he was just complementing on how pretty you are, is all!"

"I-I know but—err…It's embarrassing!" she yelled out, blushing once again. "He should mind his own business is what!" She crossed her arms, the rouge on her cheeks refusing to take leave at this point. "And I told you not to call me by that! Someone might hear you," she reminded him with much fluster.

"Don't worry—we're far from the crowd, aren't we? Plus, look at this view," he added, turning to admire rays of late sunlight washing across Tuscany. She had to agree with him on both points—it was pretty smart for Italy to have picked a table far enough from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant and with a view so priceless. It must have been quite a hassle, too. It was most definitely romantic, but she wasn't about to go there just yet. She leaned on one elbow, admiring the view.

"So, what are you ordering, Germany?" he asked her, breaking her trance, leaning on both hands as he gazed dreamily at her with much interest.

"Umm, well—I haven't taken a good look at the menu yet…" she explained timidly. Embarrassing as it is to admit in an Italian restaurant, considering the vast possibilities Italians can create with pasta, Germany was kind of having a hard time making a decision.

"Italy, uh…what would you recommend?" she asked him shyly. He put a thoughtful finger to his lip.

"I love all kinds of pasta, so it's hard to recommend just one," he explained.

'_Figures…'_

"But I guess it depends on your mood today. Tell me, Germany, are you feeling like cream or tomatoes today?"

"What kind of question is that? How does that solve anything?" she pressed him, confused.

"Just pick one or the other," he assured her with his usual enthusiasm.

"Erm—I guess…tomatoes."

"Hair, shells, pipes, squares, or butterflies?"

"What are you—ugh…hair?"

"Okay, okay…now, mushrooms, capers, or chicken?"

At this point, she started going with the flow; it was just like the other day right before he was just about to ask her on a night out. "I'm feeling mushrooms today."

He smirked at her. "Red or white? That's the last question."

She eyed him suspiciously, but did not hesitate in her answer, although at that point, she wasn't exactly sure what she was answering. "Red."

"Good choice," he commented, smirk still in place. Although the fact that she had such thoughts was awkward enough, she thought of how handsome Italy looked when he had such a confident expression on his face—she's not accustomed to seeing him smirk like that.

"Alrighty! We're ready to eat!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Yoho~ _Il camarero~_! We're ready~!" He waved his hand rapidly, trying to call for the waiter's attention. "I-Italy, you don't have to flail like that! He already saw us!" she scolded him. The waiter reached their table in a flash, pen and booklet ready in hand.

"_Che desidera,_ _signor Vargas?_" he asked him.

"_Io vorrei dei capelli al Firenze, per favore._"

"_Molto bene_…" he commented, scribbling the order on his booklet. "And you, _signorina_?"

"Umm…" she looked up to Italy in concern. She never really picked out anything.

"She'll have your best _Bolognese_, _per favore_," he answered for her.

"We'll have that ready for her, _signore_," he assured him with an "ok" hand sign of approval.

"Well, _signore_," he continued, "since you _are_ in _Toscana_ after all, your choice of wine will be…?"

"I'll take the best _Chianti_ you've got in your cellar."

"Ah! Excellent choice, _signore_! We'll have the finest one straight out of our vineyard right at your table. Your orders will be ready in a flash and I will have your _Chianti _ready in a moment, _i signori_." With that, he grabbed both menus and left their table.

Germany eyed Italy from across the table. "So, I'm having _Bolognese_, I guess?"

"Yes, you are, my dear~"

She tensed a little at his endearing words. "Don't call me that. It makes me feel awkward…"

"Why should it make you feel awkward? You're my girlfrie—"

"No! That's just a disguise! I mean—I haven't changed and—and, well, we were never really…" She glanced up and paused for a moment when she noticed how his face fell in slight disappointment at her arguments. She realized that she may have hurt his feelings and suddenly felt a small pang of guilt in her chest.

"I-Italy…?"

His eyes fell down on his plate. He didn't respond. She sighed. "I…I'm sorry I'm being like this. It's just—I'm still not used to all this and…well, I just think it's silly that you're acting that way when none of this is real and all. Now, if you actually had been acting all this time, that'd be a different story, and it would actually help our situation, but it seems like you're taking this whole girlfriend thing a little too seriously…"

She rambled on, trying to explain away the misunderstanding and the hurt she had inflicted on him. When she mentioned the possibility of Italy having acted their relationship out, she felt her stomach churn slightly, but she quickly brushed it off. Her rambles were interrupted with a soft giggle from the opposite side of the table. Italy raised his eyes towards her once again, still giggling softly. Germany stopped speaking altogether, staring curiously at him. He gradually ceased giggling, but the smile remained on his face, his eyes staring softly at her. After a soft, drawn out sigh, he began speaking again.

"You know…when Germany was acting weird that one Valentine's Day…"

Germany tensed, hiding her face in humiliation.

"…I was actually really happy."

She raised her head rapidly, the blush still evident in her cheeks.

"I mean, sure, Germany was acting weird and scary. But…he tried his best to make me feel special…Germany's a great friend!"

She was taken aback by his honesty. "Italy…"

His smile only widened. "I know you don't like it and you're acting scary about it, but I'm really happy that Germany's my girlfriend right now. It's like the same old Germany, only a hundred times better now that he's a girl!"

She had to smile at his silliness—it was undeniably cute.

"I know you're not going to stay like that forever because you probably don't want to, but…if it's okay with Germany, I want to take advantage of this moment as much as I can. I'm not sure if I'll ever have a date with a female Germany ever again."

Germany sighed. She felt the least she could do for him is let him have his fun. "Then, I guess…I shouldn't be so bitter about it…"

"Yay~!" He threw his arms in excitement and joy.

"But tell me," she quietly blurted, interrupting the Latin boy's flailing. The rouge was reappearing in her cheeks, ever increasing in hue and area. "W-what do you, umm, s-see in me, anyway? Y-you know, as a—as a _woman_?"

Italy immediately responded with a blank look, which eventually turned into a confused look, backed up with resounding and quiet "ve…" Waiting for his answer actually made Germany slightly nervous about what he might say about her—after all, he wasn't afraid to openly mention how scary she actually was.

"Well~" he finally started, "Germany is still the same old Germany, so she's still bossy and scary…and she really is macho and muscular for a girl, just like German girls are. Even her hair is macho…"

She slammed her palms against the table. "WHA—What's that supposed to mean?" she yelled out in obvious offense.

"Veee! I'm sorry! I'm not finished yet!" he cried out in defense.

"Ah…sorry…"

"Umm…well…even if Germany is still macho, she actually has a really nice body—not scrawny, but really athletic and curvy."

She swallowed thickly.

"And she has really nice breasts…" he added, casually putting a finger to his lip in thought of what other comments he might have to add.

"NA—You don't go around saying weird things like that!" she scolded him, her face covered in a light red sheen. She felt her arms instinctively cross over her bulging chest.

"Also," he continued. "You've probably heard it a lot already since this happened, but Germany's a very pretty girl. Even though she doesn't have long, flowing hair, I like how her short hair makes her gorgeous blue eyes stand out."

Her eyes slowly widened at his words, her blush brightening her fair skin.

"And her voice—it's not like old Germany's manly, macho voice. If a blind man were to hear her speak, he would know right away that he's talking to a beautiful lady."

His words were sweet, but she can't call them sugar-coated—they're way too sincere to simply be called sugar-coated. Her hands found themselves on her lap, balling up into fists, clenching lightly as if to will away the embarrassment spreading through her system. She tried finding a response deep inside her—the longer she stalled, the stronger the embarrassment flowed within her. "T-that's—well…"

"I don't know what it is," he quietly interrupted her, "but there is something about you…"

She quickly looked back up at him, immediately noticing his shift from third person. Italy was speaking directly to her.

"I felt it way before all of this happened," he continued, "but for some reason, the feeling is much stronger now. I'd always be really happy every time I see Germany or every time Germany came to rescue me, but now, every time I see you, I'm more than happy—my heart beats a lot faster and I can't get myself to look at any other girl besides you anymore…and it's only been a week. Germany, what is this?"

She swallowed again. His words were making her nervous—in a good way, in a bad way, she wasn't sure, but they were definitely making her nervous. She knew she had to answer him.

"I…don't know."

"Ve…" His eyes would not let go of hers, and she really wanted them to—the intensity was driving her insane.

"Maybe it's a psychological thing, like…if you see my face, it reminds you of how I train you all the time and it probably tricks your body into increasing your heart rate and…" Germany would try to find a scientific explanation for unexplainable questions, but she knew full well that this didn't explain the intense feelings Italy was feeling about her, or at least from looking at her, so he says.

"Ve, Germany…do you think…maybe I might be…"

'_Oh, Gott…'_

She had a feeling of what may come out of his mouth at that moment, and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to hear it at that moment or not, or if she even wanted to hear it at all. But to her fortune, the waiter had come with their meals and their wine, just in time to interrupt Italy's pressing thoughts about her.

"Your pasta is ready, _i signori_~!" he chanted, gracefully placing the appropriate plates on each of their sides. "And we have our finest _Chianti_ here, year 1848." The waiter then brought up a large oblong squash bottle nested in a straw basket. He then popped the cork of the bottle, pouring each of them a glass. A fruity aroma mingling with the _pomodoro_ coated mushrooms on her plate invaded Germany's nostrils as the century-old wine was poured into her glass. Something about the scent of the wine rekindled age-old memories within her, memories of its year 1848, just behind the doors of unification. The revolutions that all took place in that single year were swimming in a fruity and smoky red lake in her wine glass. She identified some implications in the wake of the year chosen for this particular _Chianti_ as she lightly swiveled it in her wine glass, offering the waiter a kind "_Grazie_."

"There you are—Florentine for _il signore_, Bolognese for _la signorina_, and a lovely bottle of _Chianti _for the lovely couple! Enjoy your meal, _i signori_. Do not hesitate to call for me if you need anything."

The waiter left the couple alone once more to allow them their meal, their wine, and their time together. His short reappearance eased Germany's anxiety just enough to appreciate the plate in front of her—a medley of chunky _pomodoro _sauce, a sprinkling of asymmetrical green flecks, mushrooms, and angel hair. The steam coming off the pasta ignited the aroma of tomatoes and basil flaring beneath her nostrils. Across from her, Italy faced a similar plate of angel hair that was instead mixed with spinach coated in a light and creamy sauce. As she was eyeing him, he was in the middle of appreciating his plate quite extravagantly, leaning in real close to his plate so that his nose is nearly touching the mountain of mushrooms and cream sauce beneath, making a small prayer of thanks in the meantime. She felt her cheeks rise slightly in a tiny smile.

Suddenly, the Latin boy clapped his hands together, quite loudly, and energetically yelled out, "Alright! It's time to eat! But first," he then raised his wine glass to his date. "A toast~"

Germany responded by raising her wine glass to his direction. "To the strong and beautiful Germany—may she remain female," he joked.

"I should strangle you for that," she told him lightheartedly.

"To the Axis—may we win this large and overextended war…" She nodded her head in approval.

"And to good health—that if Germany unfortunately turned back to his normal self again, that he would still be strong and macho, and would still look out for me!" She rolled her eyes.

"_Salute~!_"

She felt the small smile in her face widen as a giggle escaped her throat, and responded to his salutation in her native tongue, "_Gesundheit_."

Italy cocked his head in confusion. "But I didn't sneeze, Germany." She didn't have the heart to ruin the moment, so she just rolled her eyes and leaned in.

"Let's just make this toast so we can start eating already," she said. Italy shrugged and leaned as well, their wine glasses lightly making contact, the light and delicate ring of good health resounding in their ears.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Germany~ It's getting dark. Are you sure you're not cold yet?"

"I told you, I'm fine. I'm more worried about you since you're so susceptible to illness in even the mildest of weather."

"Ve…"

The couple had finished their lovely Tuscan dinner and proceeded to walk through the cobblestone pavements of Florence, amidst red roofs and aged Romanesque walls. Italy just about had to force Germany to walk in sync with his slower, more relaxed, Latin pace—it never occurred to her how briskly she walked, even at times like these that required absolutely no rush. Considering how much her stilettos had been weakening her at that point, she had no choice but to slow down. Aside from Italy's never-ending basket of conversations, admiring the Renaissance and Romanesque aura that oozed from within Florence's age-old walls was enough to lighten the pain that just began to spread along both of her feet.

Italy had always been good at socializing; he was never the shy or the timid type when it came to the people with whom he enjoyed company, at the very least. It seemed as if he always had something to talk about—from the flowers hanging from an elderly woman's window sill to the common life they share having to live with an irritable older brother. Germany never found himself to be shy—the differences in cultures just led people to assume that he is always socially aloof. As a female, she finds herself much more afraid than shy—she feels as if she can't talk to anyone, especially those she knew, paranoid that they may look past her guise. But all this time she is spending with Italy allows her to release all these feelings of paranoia because with him, there is nothing she needs to hide. Italy never saw Germany as shy, either. Even now, he feels all the more confident that he can get her out of her shell and past her aloofness. He has gotten her to at least giggle at his jokes and his humorous nature, and to him, it's an obvious accomplishment. Other than that, she would be acting her usual self, either taking his words too literally or too seriously, which would end up in either misunderstanding or violent physical contact in Germany's favor. But in all honesty, Italy wouldn't have it any other way—if Germany didn't do these things, she wouldn't be the Germany he knew well. As they walked further, Italy was hit with a brilliant idea.

"Germany! Have you ever been to the _Piazza della Signoria_?"

"I…don't believe so…"

"Then I know where I'm taking you next!" With that he again grabbed her by the wrist and bolted through the alleyways just as before.

"No! Italy, don't run!" she pleaded despairingly, her feet already sore from their first run.

The boy refused to stop or slow down, but much to her fortune, the square was only a block away. From stained alleyways emerged an open space where the _Palazzo Vecchio _towered over all surrounding buildings with its beautiful antiquity. Italy continued holding on to her wrist, finally halting to a stop in front of an age-beaten, weathered, yet nonetheless majestic fountain of mythical creatures and a single majestic figure in the nude.

"The Fountain of Neptune?" Germany wondered aloud.

"So you know about it?" Italy asked in slight surprised.

"I know _of_ it."

Italy giggled. "Well~ it's definitely no Trevi Fountain, but we aren't in Rome—this is as close as it gets in Florence," he joked.

Germany gave him a confused look. "I don't understand. What are we doing here?"

Italy just gave her an expectant look. "I'm sure Germany wants to make a wish, doesn't she?"

She glanced at him with a slightly doubtful look—Germany was never the one to believe in wishing wells and shooting stars. Then again, she appreciated how considerate he was being to her.

"I guess one wish won't hurt…"

"Of course it wouldn't!" he happily agreed, as he rummaged through his pockets for some loose change. Soon, he pulled out two silver coin liras and handed one to Germany.

"I'll make a wish with you," he said enthusiastically.

She fingered the lira in wonder, examining the depiction of Victor Emmanuel on one side. Italy then gently grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around so that she faced away from the fountain like he did.

"Now, just like you would do if we were at the Trevi," he directed her. "Toss it backwards over your left shoulder with your right hand and make a wish!"

"…If you say so…"

Germany found it a tiny bit embarrassing, but willed herself to close her eyes and make a wish anyway. At first, her wish seemed obvious to her, but there was something in the back of her mind that continued pushing itself forward. She cracked one eye open as she took a quick peek at the boy standing beside her, who also had his eyes closed in whimsical concentration. The expectant smile plastered on his face spoke to her somehow. She closed her eyes again and, with much concentration than necessary, tossed the coin over her left shoulder.

'_I wish for peace of mind.'_

It had just occurred to her—it's one thing if she turns back to normal, but whether or not she ever turns back to normal, she will not find peace with Italy until these feelings in her gut are settled. Even if she did return to her normal male self, the unsettling feeling of what could have been or should have been would remain within him. If she had to make a wish, she decided to wish for peace of mind over returning to normal—although returning to normal _does_ contribute greatly to her peace of mind. In all honesty, she didn't take fountain and wishing well myths all that seriously anyway. But she also had this feeling that whatever Italy wished for must be much easier to grant, referring back to when he wished on that shooting star during one campaign. His wishes of a stronger, more dependable Italy and a better form of government didn't quite come to life, but Italy's wish of England receiving a headache definitely did. How peculiar that was.

Shortly after she had tossed her coin, Italy tossed his.

'_Germany is always worrying or angry about something. I wish Germany would just stop worrying and find happiness one day.'_

After having made their wishes, they opened their eyes again, facing each other.

"So you made your wish, Germany?"

"I definitely did."

"Ve~ they say if you stay a good person, your wish will come true."

"That's just something parents tell their children so that they would behave."

Italy shrugged. "I'm just saying," he said, lacing his fingers with Germany's, "that there could be a way to make your wish come true." He smiled at her, as if he knew exactly what Germany wished for.

She continued giving him a skeptical look, but turned away as the blush started reappearing in her face again. Surprisingly, she didn't pull her hand away from his. It's just as she felt earlier that evening when he had led her to that magnificent restaurant—warm, amorous Latin skin radiating through her lace glove. Despite the warmth seeping through her fingers, she suddenly pulled away, instinctively rubbing the chill away from her arms. The sun had long set since they finished their dinner and it came as no surprise that the temperature had dropped quite a bit, even in Mediterranean territory. Other than that, she doesn't have as much muscle to warm up her feminine body as she once did. Upon seeing her react to the cold—he could already hear her teeth chattering—Italy immediately took action and began taking off his blazer and scarf.

"Ve…I told you it was getting cold," he lectured her as he gently draped his blazer over her shoulders and his scarf around her neck. How the tables have turned for Germany—normally _he_ would be the one to lecture Italy about anticipating the weather. She lightly held on to his blazer in fear that it may fall off her tiny shoulders.

"What about you?" she asked him with much concern. "You're going to catch a cold just walking around like that."

Italy just shrugged. "Even if I do, I'd rather be the one catching it than have you catch it."

She lowered her eyes onto his scarf—her face was still red. "…You could have just let me bring my own coat…" she mumbled.

"I told you it doesn't work that way," he explained again lightheartedly. "Besides, this is my house," he argued. "I'm used to nights like these—unlike in Germany's place where it never reaches past twenty degrees." (**A/N**: Celsius)

There was no use for her to argue after having made that point, although she was certain that he was going to catch something. "…_Danke,_" she whispered, one hand letting go of the blazer to once again lace with his fingers. He responded with a satisfied smile.

"Now, since the _Uffizi _is right beside us, how about we go around a take a look?" he suggested, pointing to their side where ahead lay a narrow courtyard; within the walls of each wing were magnificent frescoes and paintings and sculptures that awaited them.

Germany nodded in agreement. She yearned to view the gifts of the Renaissance. "I'd love to."

The couple walked towards the narrow courtyard between the two wings of the _Uffizi_, their fingers still laced together. Much to their dismay, however, the gallery had closed an hour earlier for the night.

"Aww shoot," Italy whined, pressing his face through the crack in between one of the doors that led into the gallery. "We didn't make it in time."

Germany sighed. "That's fine…we can come back anytime."

"Ve..." Italy sighed in disappointment, his face leaving the door. "And I really wanted to show you Botticelli's _Venus_."

As he left the doors to approach his date, Italy found Germany slowly walking to a nearby stone bench, still clinging onto his blazer. As she sat down, he noticed the way she winced as she held on to one of her ankles. Her stilettos definitely must be taking a toll on her. Italy quickly approached her and sat by her side, feeling guilty that he had made her run at all while wearing such lethal looking oxfords.

"Ve…Are you okay?"

She turned to face him, a slight look of pain still evident in her face while she nodded, "_Ja_…I'm fine. It's just…these shoes." She was still rubbing her ankle, unable to sooth away the pain concentrated in her toes.

Italy continued staring in concern, a resounding "Ve" seeping out through is lips. Then a brilliant idea hit him. He immediately got off his seat and knelt down on one knee in front of Germany. He had caught her by surprise, especially when he began unlacing her left shoe.

"I-Italy! What are you doing?"

"Making the pain go away, silly~" he happily told her, finally loosening the laces of one shoe.

He gently slipped her foot out of the shoe and sock and immediately noticed how red her foot had become. Her feet had definitely gone through enough trouble for one night, but despite the pain she's going through, he didn't want their night to end just yet. He firmly held onto her foot with one hand, while the other began kneading the sole with his thumb. Just as he had expected, she jerked from the sensation—if he hadn't kept his face at a good distance, she could have kicked him straight up the jaw or through his teeth.

"What are you doing? That tickles!"

"I told you, I'm making the pain go away," he repeated as he continued kneading the sole of her foot, this time with both thumbs.

Germany turned beet red, embarrassed that passers-by may be staring and wondering why she was getting a foot massage in the middle of the _Uffizi _courtyard. But the embarrassment soon enough left her when she began feeling a great wave of relief and comfort wash over her. Italy's fingers were working magic on her as they gently kneaded away the pain from her heel all the way to each of her toes. Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned back on the smooth old wall directly behind her. His hands then moved from the sole of her foot to her calves, slowly and gently kneading as he relaxed away all the tension built up from walking in stilettos for a while. Germany felt her eyelids getting heavy, the soothing wave of relief completely taking her over.

Italy proceeded to her right foot, repeating the process of unlacing her shoe and gently removing it from her sore foot. That side wasn't accustomed to Italy's kneading fingers just yet, but instead of jerking from surprise, Germany let the ticklish feeling run freely, shivering as it ran through her body. He ministered the same actions on this leg as he did on the last—all the pain was relaxed away from her heel all the way to her toes and all across the expanse of her sole. Her calf was relieved from tension, Italy's fingers gracefully dancing across her smooth skin and worn out muscles, making her sigh sweetly for what seemed like every thirty seconds. She never would have thought relief could feel this amazing.

Her sighs motivated Italy to continue running his fingers across her foot and her calf, determined to wash away all the pain—he definitely wishes he could wash away all her pain. He looked up and was very satisfied to see her relaxed face. How he wanted to skim his fingers all the way up past her knees and along the smooth expanse of her milky thighs, but he knew much better than to do something so offensive. Instead, he gently lifted her leg with one hand and began planting a short line of butterfly kisses up along her shin. She whimpered, breaking from her euphoric trance to shoot an annoyed glance at the boy beneath her. Because of the relaxing sensations she was put through, she couldn't quite put up an intimidating countenance. He slyly flashed a smile in response.

"Feel better?" he whispered, lips moving against her skin.

She continued giving him an annoyed look before leaning back on the wall with a loud and exasperated sigh. "_Much _better."

"_Molto bene~!_" he yelled out in excitement and accomplishment. But before he slipped her feet back into her shoes, he decided he wanted to play around a little. With his thumb and index, he gently grabbed one of her big toes, wiggling it around as he chanted, "And this little piggy went to the market~"

Before he could proceed to the following toe, Germany shot up and leaned into him, whispering in a threatening tone, "If you continue doing that, I might just kick you in the face."

"Veee!"

That was enough for Italy to slip both her feet back into her socks and oxfords without question. As he was putting her shoes back on, he became concerned that her feet would only start hurting again once those blasted shoes were back on to cut off her circulation. He looked around him to see if there was a solution in sight. A few feet away from them, he found a street vendor who—to their fortune—was selling artisan sandals.

"Wait right here," she ordered Germany as he ran over to the street vendor.

"Wha—Wai—Italy!" she called out to him, but he ran off anyway. From where she sat she could hear him chatting in heavy Italian with the street vendor, laughing heartily over phrases she couldn't comprehend as Italy took out some lira to pay for a pair. Just as quickly as he'd run off, he ran back with a pair of sandals in hand for his date.

"I don't want you hurting anymore while we walked around, so I got these for you instead."

He handed her the pair of sandals, which she took without a word. "They're not as nice as your shoes, but they probably feel much better to walk in. I got them in gold so that it would still look nice with your outfit."

She looked at the sandals in her hands before looking back up at Italy, a grateful smile on her face. She bent down to unlace her shoes once more, but Italy stopped her.

"Oh, woah there, I got this _signorina_," he said as he bent down himself to untie her laces once more.

He once again removed her shoes only to replace them with the newly bought sandals. They were handmade artisan sandals that were designed with intricate twists and braids, but simply slipped on like gloves. Germany realized that night that she much preferred comfort over fashion any day.

Once she had both sandals on, Italy stood up, offering to carry her lethal oxfords for her. He then offered her a hand to lift her off her seat as he suggested their next date destination.

"Ve… Since the _Uffizi _is closed, how about we go over and cross the Arno through the _Ponte Vecchio_? It's only a few blocks away from here."

Now that she didn't have to deal with the pain of walking on her tippy-toes, Germany felt all the more enthusiastic. "Let's go ahead, then."

With her approval, Italy excitedly led them to their next destination, but now he knows better than to simply yank his date and run across alleyways. He instead gripped her gently by the waist and led her to the right turns and alleys. Being abruptly pulled to his side surprised her a little, but she was more preoccupied by the proximity of their bodies. The hand holding onto her waist made her self-conscious, as she felt the blood rising to her cheeks for the hundredth time that night. What she relished in, however, was the warmth that the boy was radiating into her body—it was a comforting sort of warmth that, despite how embarrassed she felt being held at the waist that way, made her refuse to leave his side.

"Here, Germany, walk on my right side. I don't want you near the streets."

"What does it matter?" she questioned him as she obediently walked over to his right side. "There aren't any cars at this time of night—I don't see why you're so worried."

"It's just a courtesy thing, I guess, but I think there was a story behind it," he wondered aloud as he put a thoughtful finger to his lip.

"There is: people in the Middle Ages used to throw their waste out of their windows and into the streets, and the men would always take the dump, but I still don't see how that is anymore relevant right now."

He shrugged. "I guess I just don't want you in the side of danger."

"If you think about it, _I'm _always the one in the side of danger."

Italy remained silent for a moment before responding, "So long as I'm still your boyfriend, that won't be the case," he bravely proclaimed.

Germany gave up on preventing Italy from referring to themselves as a legitimate couple, so she allowed him the use of the word "boyfriend." Within a couple of hours, she actually had already been growing fond of the idea—the fact that she allowed the boy to trail butterfly kisses on her leg without having the urge to kick him for it is proof.

"If you say so, then I'll take your word for it."

Italy chuckled. "We made a pinky promise on this, remember? You're supposed to take my word for it."

She recalled the time when Italy ran off, believing that he had left him for an alliance with Russia. She had to smile at the thought as she raised her right pinky in wonder. A peculiar promise it was, but she should take his word that he would be there for her in the face of danger. However, her reminiscence was interrupted when they were just about approaching another corner. There was an intense light seeping through the buildings and the cracks of the walls that only grew as they came closer to the next corner.

"We're almost there," Italy assured her.

Once they exited the walkway between two dark buildings, they landed on a new street that was lit ablaze by rows and rows of streetlights and numerous shops along the bridge still open for business. Even at this time of night, the people around this part of Florence still strolled about and the stores continued to barter with their customers, the _Ponte Vecchio_ seemed to act like Florence's little sun after seven in the evening. Ahead of them lay the actual _Ponte Vecchio_, lined with numerous Renaissance-aged shops that were suspended from each side of the bridge, in which everything imaginable was sold, from fish to artisan jewelry.

"_Andiamo_~" Italy chanted as he led her into the oldest bridge in Tuscany.

Upon entering the bridge, Germany felt as if she had been transported into another much smaller town altogether. Inside the bridge, the abundance of shops practically walled the view of the river from either side, giving off the illusion that they had been encased in a separate building or commercial center that lay across the Arno River. Throngs of people including a few bicycles strolled through the bridge, stopping by each shop or maybe having coffee and dessert at a nearby café—the fact that it was all occurring on one of the Western world's oldest bridges struck Germany as amazing.

The couple walked through these throngs of people, also stopping by shops that seemed of their interest. Germany asked Italy to stop by a watchmaker's shop, the watchmaker still hard at work at that time of night. She watched in earnest from outside his window as the watchmaker carefully and tediously put each gear into place, perfecting a magnificent golden watch much similar to her own. Italy had them stop by a fruit stand and bought two peaches for each of them, as the fruit was in season. They walked past others strolling across the bridge and storeowners who tried to persuade them into buying a fish for a late night dinner, enjoying the sweet flavor of their peaches.

After finishing their peaches and having passed by a number of shops and cafes, Germany finally caught sight of the Arno. From those many shops emerged a gap on each side of the bridge, one gap roofed with brick posts and groin vaulting. Indeed the design of the bridge itself is so Romanesque, as is the rest of Florence. The couple found themselves walking towards the edge of the bridge to further admire the venerable Arno. The street lamps found along the edge of the bridge illuminated the waters of the Arno, casting a reflective light that seemed to twinkle like the stars in the night sky. Germany carefully leant over the aged bricks, admiring the way the lights flickered and reflected off those ancient waters. Italy placed her oxfords on the floor as he casually leant over beside her, also admiring the river's reflection and the street lamps that kept Florence alight.

He then turned his head to admire the view beside him—his German beauty. He admired the way her crystal blue irises lit up as they, too, reflected the lights of the Arno, like fireflies had been trapped behind her gaze, the way her skin glowed with the river, the way the breeze lightly brushed at her choppy fringe.

He found himself being drawn in.

To think that this was the same person that protected him in times of trouble, that always prevented him from getting killed, the same person that lifted him up whenever his legs gave out from right underneath him or whenever he was knocked out by a stray rock or twig. There's no way this delicate, radiant, creature could possibly the same strong nation he had made a pact with, the same one that always looked after him…

He found himself approaching her from behind, the unsuspecting beauty distracted by the lights dancing along the river. But when she felt those amorous hands gently grip her waist, she immediately jumped and spun around, slightly offended with his actions.

"H-hey! Where exactly are you—ah…"

Her complaints were stopped short immediately after she spun around to face him when his hands travelled from her waist to gently cup each side of her face. He locked eyes with her again and she was helpless to avert his heavy gaze. It never occurred to him how much shorter Germany had gotten since the incident—with her heels on, she seemed to tower in her normal height, but now that she is without stilettos, she actually stands barely in par with Italy. The point where their eyes met was just right, and he was confident that their lips would meet at just the right spot. He took a moment to gently brush at her fringe before Germany could find her voice again.

"Italy…Are you alright?"

Her voice was shaky. Even though he only held her face ever so gently, she felt paralyzed by his gaze and his touch.

He responded with a small smile and a simple request, "Can you close your eyes, please?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Why?" She really didn't know why she asked him that considering how obvious the answer was—maybe she was just trying to buy some more time.

His smile only widened at her question. "It's. A. Surprise," he answered quite playfully.

She sighed through her nose, still hesitant of what would inevitably come afterward if ever she complied, but nonetheless acquiesced as she slowly let her eyelids fall to a close. At first, all she felt around her were the bricks against her back, the cool evening breeze, and those warm hands around her face. She heard the passers-by crossing the bridge, stopping by the shops, admiring the river. She concentrated on all these different sounds and sensations from all around her in order to distract herself from the intense anticipation building from deep within her. If he would just go ahead and do the deed, then maybe she would have an easier time deciding whether or not she wanted this whole ordeal to go so far. But just thinking about it made her heart skip and her stomach churn, and she was unsure as to whether such feelings were good or bad. Instead, she distracted herself.

She felt the breeze whistle against the hem of her dress. She listened to the laughter of people passing by. She concentrated on the soft splashes of the Arno's waters against the arches of the bridge. She listened as she heard him whisper, _"_Germany…"

She felt warmth and softness press against her lips, making first contact. She took a deep breath through her nose, the pent up anticipation she had been trying to keep at bay just burst in a single moment as she felt those lips move against hers. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing steady yet deep, but her mind and her emotions were in frenzy.

What should she concentrate on?

The smell of basil and daisies invading her nostrils? The feel of his thumb slowly drawing small circles on her cheek? The way his chest would heave into hers as he took in deep breaths? The feel of his lips moving against hers, massaging with every little tilt of his head?

Maybe she should concentrate on how he was leaning further into her, trying to deepen their kiss little by little, and how the small of her back continued to press against the bricks behind her. Worst case scenario: if he leant in far enough, chances are they could be falling into the Arno with their lips still locked. Germany wanted to make sure that they wouldn't even get close to an incident like that, so she retaliated by leaning forward, deepening their kiss in the process.

She began relishing in the feel of her own lips pressing against his, moving in sync with his, the way she would tilt her head in response to his movements. She relished in the warmth of his hands, moving from her cheeks back down to her waist, gently gripping her as she moved in sync with him. Slowly she felt her arms rise from the bricks behind her, her hands placing themselves on the nape of his neck, trying to pull him in deeper.

Was she really trying to pull him in deeper? She wasn't sure because she was distracted by a hand slowly palming the flat expanse of her stomach. Italy could feel her abdominals shiver as he dragged his palm over her dress, the fabric bunching little by little along the way—Germany felt the hem of her dress rising, exposing more of her thighs little by little, but in such a moment, she couldn't care less. If anything, it actually made her heat up even more. She voiced a small moan against his lips as she tilted her head further, allowing him more access. The vibrations she sent him made him shiver in excitement—he longed to feel the firm skin underneath that dress, listen to what other sounds she can make. Germany responded by bringing one hand down, dragging it along his chest, stopping just above his heart. She could feel its quick pace, and she could almost feel her own beating in sync with his. The feeling was euphoric and certainly nothing like she was ever expecting, nothing like she had previously feared. She was surprised she was even responding at all to his kiss, but the feeling of warmth radiating from his lips onto hers was making her melt—there's no way for her to even feel self-conscious because all she could concentrate on at this point was his body pressing heatedly against her own. This burning desire...

Soon enough, she felt a soft intrusion against her lips—his tongue gently glided against her lower lip, sending shivers up her spine. Just as she was about to comply to his requests, something had struck her from deep within the recesses of her mind—soft grass dancing in the breeze, a tiny girl in a green maid's dress holding on to his hands as she leaned in...

She suddenly jerked back from their kiss, placing both hands on his chest. They were both breathing heavily. Germany was slightly lightheaded, as was Italy, whose hands were still firmly placed on her waist. Both were covered with a rosy shade along their cheeks, spent from their brief yet intense moment of passion.

"Ve…Germany…" he breathed out, "did I…did I do something wrong?"

She looked up at him, gently shaking her head. "No…it wasn't you, I was…I don't know what came over me…"

It then occurred to her what they had just done. Italy had just kissed her—and she kissed back…feverishly, if anything. The thought of it made her heat up like a furnace. She quickly turned her head away from him, trying her best to hide the shame behind her countenance; her eyes squeezed shut out of embarrassment and shock, her heart beating at so fast a pace she felt it could just about burst in a violent bath of blood. He only found her reaction precious. His arms encircled her entire waist, bringing her into a warm embrace, catching her off guard.

"I-Italy…"

He proceeded to bury his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the smell of vanilla as he placed butterfly kisses along her neck. She closed her eyes, trying to muster enough strength to push away the unsatisfied Italian boy. The fact that she was still lightheaded didn't help her much.

"Nn…No more," she breathed out. "This is enough for one night…"

Italy left the crook of her neck, facing her with a sincere smile. "I guess you're right," he softly agreed before placing a peck on her forehead. All this affection made Germany blood-red from the head down.

"I think it's about time I took you home," he told her, loosening his embrace as he gently patted her head like she were a behaved little girl.

She glared at him, still breathing a little heavily. "Don't forget my shoes."

::::::::::::::::::::

They were walking back home to Germany's house, the temperature dropping even more as they walked further into Northern European territory. She still held onto his blazer, his arm draped over her shoulders. Italy's confidence levels were off the roof that night, and he walked with so much swag with a beautiful lady under his arm, swinging around her shoes in his other hand. She didn't find it all that satisfying, though.

"I don't want your arm there," she complained. "It makes you look like a player." She knew Italy was a bit of a player, but she definitely didn't want to look like the shallow damsel that fell for the player.

"Ve…" he whined. He removed his arm from her shoulders, just as she had asked. Instead, he placed it around her waist, playfully gripping her just to make her jump.

"Hey," she warned him through gritted teeth, lightly nudging him. However, she didn't ask him to leave this time. She would actually much rather have his arm around her waist than around her shoulders—it brought them closer and she could relish in his warmth a little longer.

The majority of their walk back home was laden in silence. They were simply enjoying each other's company. Much in contrast to her character, Germany even found herself leaning her head onto his shoulder as they walked. Amidst the silence, Italy brought up a pressing thought.

"Germany…?"

"Hmm?"

"What we did a while ago…" The way he brought it up made her blush—he made it sound like they had committed a scandalous deed. "Was that…your first kiss?"

At first she thought the answer was just as a simple as a "yes," but for some reason she felt that if she had said that, she would be lying. Although this was definitely her first conscious kiss, she felt as if the sensations were not so new to her. The sensation was familiar—surely the passion was unmatched, but for some reason she was familiar with the anticipation and the way her heart beat so quickly. She couldn't quite put her finger on it…

"Yes, but…"

"Hmm?"

Maybe she shouldn't elaborate on it. It sounds too complicated. She shook her head to brush away the thought. "…No, it's nothing. That was my…" She swallowed a little, feeling embarrassed about the idea. "My first real kiss."

Italy giggled out of excitement. "So happy to be your first."

She looked up at him. "That wasn't your first, I'm sure," she commented, slightly a little disappointed but nonetheless unsurprised. Italy's always with a bunch of girls—surely she can't be his first kiss.

He shrugged. "Well—no, but…" He paused for a moment, as if in careful though, before continuing, "I've never kissed anybody the way I kissed you tonight—you were definitely different." He smiled at her. She just looked away—he's only going to make her blush even harder.

"I'm surprised, though," he added. "You're a really good kisser for someone who's never kissed anyone before."

As humiliated as she felt about the idea, she also thought it was interesting how she could possibly kiss as passionately as she did earlier. "I-I don't know what got into me, I guess…"

He sighed softly. "You remember when I told you how my first love was a boy?"

'_And then I freaked out?_' she thought morbidly.

"That same boy was my first kiss, too."

She choked on air. "R-r-really?"

"Yup!" he said, nodding rapidly.

"Oh…" she responded, feeling stupid for her lack of words.

Much to her dismay, she kept referring back to the last time they dated like this (maybe not _exactly_ like this) from that last Valentine's Day. Italy doesn't seem to have a problem with men—does that mean that if Germany had played his cards right, they could have gotten to the same point they are at now? Kissing passionately by the river? Even though Germany tried his best to be the greatest lover he could possibly be, even with his best intentions put to play, _he_ doesn't even come close to the way Italy has been treating her as his girlfriend. Despite his fervent attention to the best dating manuals around, _he_ couldn't even come close to leveling with the same kind of passion Italy had graced her with. That boy is a natural, and she was actually a little envious and resentful as to how naturally the concept and act of "loving" someone came to him, while she once had to put up with sleepless nights trying to get it down right, only to have it burst into flames.

She sighed in defeat. Italians make the best lovers—she had first-hand experience of it. Maybe she should just stick to making cars and Panzer tanks.

Italy noticed her sigh. "What's wrong?" he asked her, pulling her in closer.

She lightly shook her head. "It's nothing…"

Italy unconsciously whispered a concerned "Ve" from her lack of a response, but quickly brushed it off when he realized they had reached her front gate.

"Ve~ We're here."

Germany broke from her trance, looking up only to realize that they had made it back to her house. She then pulled away from his soft grip to remove his blazer and scarf. She handed it back to him with a grateful smile in place. He took them back without a word, quickly putting her shoes on the floor once more to put his blazer and his scarf on—he's not a fan of the weather at Germany's house. He gave her a look of concern.

"You better get inside before you catch…somethi—" He abruptly sneezed, unable to finish his sentence. Germany shook her head as he sniffled.

"I told you, you were going to catch _something_," she nagged.

"Ve…" he whined, rubbing his nose.

"I better get inside—it's really cold out here…"

Before she could even get her hand on the gate to open it, Italy took her by surprise, grabbing her arms as he gently pressed her onto a marble post on the iron railing. He leaned in teasingly.

"Then at least let me warm you up enough until you get to your front door," he whispered in her ear.

She blushed furiously, but nonetheless allowed him to capture her lips once more for the night. She tilted her head immediately upon first contact, allowing him a deeper start. As she brought up a gloved hand to pull him in deeper, she felt one hand leave her arm only to teasingly skim along the exposed thigh beneath the hem of her dress. She tried implying some sort of protest without breaking their kiss, but upon feeling him fingering the hem of her dress oh, so teasingly, she only ended up arching against him—it was a reaction totally out of her control, it seemed. But she mustered enough willpower to push him away. It turns out she's the one responsible for ending their passionate lip locks—if it were up to Italy, they would be kissing forever.

She glared at him as she felt his hand let go of her dress, as if he already saw her warning coming. "Don't even think about it," she whispered breathily. Italy had taken away most of her breath at that point.

Italy only chuckled. "I'm not _that _tasteless," he teased her.

She broke away from him—quite hesitantly, it seemed—to enter through her gate. Italy quickly picked up her shoes from where he dropped them and handed them back to her. She wordlessly grabbed them through the iron railings. Just before she was about to close the gate behind her, she took one more glance at Italy, who just stood there, waiting patiently for her to safely walk back inside her house. She couldn't help but smile at him, as she bid him _"Gute Nacht_."

He grinned in response. "_Buona notte~_"

After closing the gate behind her, she made her way to her front door. As she placed one hand on the door knob, she took another glance behind her. Upon seeing Germany turn around, Italy waved frantically. She smiled as she walked into her house, gently closing the door behind her so as not to wake anyone.

Upon seeing her close the door from where he stood, Italy suddenly broke out in a joyous dance, clapping his hands excitedly. He just took out his German bombshell to the best date he's ever had. He greatly hoped that he'd given her the best night she's ever had. He proceeded on his way home, bubbling with confidence and happiness.

Germany leant back on her door immediately after closing it, breathing out the most satisfied-sounding sigh. She placed a hand on her chest, attempting to calm down her rapidly-beating heart. Then she thought aloud in a whisper, "…What just happened tonight…?"

She looked around her for the nearest clock. It read 11:37pm. Austria must definitely be asleep at this time of night, although she was unsure about her brother. The lights in the living room were dimmed down, so she walked to the staircase cautiously so as not to wake anyone or trip on anything. As she was approaching the staircase, however, she was caught in surprise upon hearing an intensely loud snore coming from behind her. She quickly spun around, only to catch sight of Prussia who looks to have long ago fallen asleep on one of the armchairs. He must have been waiting for his sister to come home safely. Considering how little patience he has for anything, waiting must have bored him to death. She only shook her head, smiling lightly as she picked up the coat Italy had thrown on her couch earlier to place it on her sleeping brother. She then placed her oxfords on the coffee table behind her before walking upstairs, just in case Prussia didn't get the hint that his sister had come home safely.

She'll have to get ready for a bombardment of questions the following morning. She'll tell him of the pasta they ate and the places they've gone, but she definitely won't mention a single word of how good a kisser Italy is.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: chapter title = "Kiss" in German, which is exactly why it'd be make the purpose of this chapter obvious for German-speakers XD but it looks very close to its English counterpart, so maybe some of you could figure it out without being able to speak/understand German necessarily :P i hope that got you guys excited~ :D

i am terribly sorry for the wait (;A;) i'm not sure if it really felt as long for you guys as it did for me, but i got caught up with AnimeEXPO this week (which was loads of fun :D) so i haven't really touched the fic while that was going on. but i'm back again now that i don't have much to do. :3 i did finish chapter 8, but after writing it out, it turns out i may actually be pushing 12 chapters overall. :O i hope you guys find that exciting haha~

so about this chapter—i would LOVE to get your thoughts on this :D is it just me, or was that one sexy foot massage back there? (o3o)~ no joke, i wish my date would give me foot massages like that—i received no such thing during prom night, so i had to settle with walking/dancing barefoot and carrying my stilettos till i got home. "OTL might i mention that while I was proof-reading that intense kiss scene, my sister's iPod was blasting "Seasons" by Good Charlotte followed by "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer…my goodness what romantic backdrops those songs are, especially "Kiss Me"—just the perfect song XD and "Seasons" always made me picture a cute first-date between high school lovers :P

well, away with _my_ thoughts—I WANT YOURS THIS TIME. :D


	7. Rot

**Chapter 7 - Rot**

Silence.

He stared at her as she sipped from her cup and nonchalantly took bites of her slice of cake, acting as if her brother weren't there at all.

"…So what'd you eat?"

"What do you think?"

"…What kind of pasta was it?"

"Bolognese."

"…And then what did you do?"

A shrug. "Walked around."

"Did you sleep with him?"

"_Nein._"

"Are you sure?"

"I came home, didn't I?"

"Yeah, well…you could've fucked in an alleyway…"

"_Bruder…_" she growled.

"Okay, fine. But why do I get this feeling that you're lying to me?"

"How about I look you straight in the eye and tell you that I _didn't fuck anyone_?"

She held her stare for a good moment, allowing Prussia to deem her words truthful.

"…Alright, alright, I believe you," he sighed in defeat.

Germany replied with a single nod of the head as she brought her attention back to her cake and coffee. Unbeknownst to her, Prussia was not quite done with his interrogation yet.

"…Did you kiss him?"

She was in the middle of taking a sip of coffee when Prussia had asked this, causing her to spurt and choke. Prussia just chuckled.

"I knew it..."

She was wiping the leftover coffee and cake crumbs off her mouth with the back of her hand, rouge spreading across her cheeks like wildfire—she was hoping it wouldn't come to this subject. Despite the humiliation his little sister felt, Prussia just laughed it off.

"Kehaha! Ah, I'm just teasing you, baby _Schwester_," he said, swinging his hand around as if to brush away at the subject. She still refused to look at him, a pout remaining on her blush-ridden face. Prussia hadn't completely stopped giggling immaturely until he noticed his sister fidgeting from across the table—she shifted around in her seat a lot, a look of discomfort evident on her face. Not so much pain, but Prussia could tell that there was something bothering her.

"Hey, you okay over there, West?"

She looked up suddenly. "Oh—y-yeah I'm fine, it's just…I think there's something wrong with my seat, is all," she lied. Prussia's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, but then shrugged it off. Although he was unsuspecting of what was really bothering her, Germany needed an excuse to get him out of her presence quick so as not to bring up any suspicions over what she needed to get done next.

"_Bruder…_could you go over to Vash's place and order some more spitzers?"

"Huh?" Prussia responded with a raise of an eyebrow, a look of confusion mixed with disgust on his face. "But I just took inventory of our arsenal last week."

"Yeah, well, I had Italy transfer a box full of them into the _Kubelwagen _after training last week, but he tripped by a creek and a good amount of them fell in there." That was actually true.

Prussia scratched the back of his head. "Even if that were the case, we just recently ordered that batch of spitzers. It's kind of a stretch for him to be able to produce another batch at such short notice..."

"Well, I...guess that's true..." She averted her eyes, trying to conjure up a different excuse that could get him out of the house, but Prussia had decided to go out himself anyway.

"Ah, I'll just go and see if he has some leftovers he's willing to sell to us," he told her as he got up to grab a coat from the coat closet. "And next time, have someone else that's _not_ Italian handle the load—bullets are expensive, you know," he nagged. It's not every day she has her older brother nagging on her like this—aside from his awkward outbursts towards her outfits, a _maturely_ nagging Prussia is a pretty rare feat, but he is serious when it comes to handling weaponry.

"I'm way ahead of you," she replied as he exited the house with a wave of the hand.

Upon hearing the door close, she shot up from her seat and hurried to the bathroom. As much as she wanted to get there as quickly as possible, there was no way she could actually _run _there considering the kind of state she's in at the moment. Instead, she took awkward and rapid baby steps on the way, trying her best to keep her thighs closed as much as possible. Once she reached the nearest bathroom, she shut the door closed, dropped down the lid on her toilet seat, yanked down her boxers and panties, and sat down. With her thumb and index fingers and a sheer look of disgust, she then carefully picked up the bloodied folds of tissue from her panties and immediately chucked it into the trash bin like it was some hazardous material.

She sighed deeply and quite loudly, leaning her elbows on her knees out of depression. It never occurred to her how she might actually have to go through menstruation while in this form, but the fact that she _is _menstruating only made her situation ten times worse—it meant that this body of hers is capable of impregnation. God forbid if she had gotten pregnant with another man's baby, not only would it take much longer for her to possibly return to normal, but who knows if she could even turn back to normal at all if such an event occurred. Aside from that dreadful possibility, the idea of having to give birth to and take care of a child of her own is a terribly dreadful and complicated enough situation on its own.

There were obviously no feminine hygienic products in the house as of that day, so Germany had to stick with folds of tissue paper to keep the blood at bay. Earlier that morning, when she woke up to a weird and disgustingly wet feeling, followed by the unsightly blood stain on her once crisp-white bed sheets, her pajamas, and her underwear—to which she responded with a shrill "_Scheiße!_" that practically woke up the whole block—she knew she had to make a trip to the drug store herself. There's no way she can have anyone shopping for hygienic material alongside her—she's going to have to go solo for the day, and she better get it over with quick, because not only is it uncomfortable having tissue stuffed in one's crotch, considering how it isn't stuck in place, the worse that could happen is having it fall out of her panties and onto the floor as a big bloody mass for everyone to see.

"_I hate this…_" she whispered to herself rather despairingly as she buried her face in her hands. As if the reality of blood oozing out from between her legs isn't bad enough, the hormonal effects were already getting to her. Her mood swings were causing her weird cravings, which explained why she managed to finish three mountainous plates of pancakes for breakfast and why she had five slices of the cake she and Austria baked earlier that day. If anything, however, she was extremely grateful that her body hadn't started acting up the previous night while she was out with Italy. That would have been all the more mortifying.

After placing another batch of tissue paper into her underwear, she immediately made her way out of the bathroom to her bedroom, where she would first dispose of her soiled bed sheets before changing into more decent clothing.

::::::::::::::::::::

Aisles and aisles of various boxes and packages, it's no wonder Germany couldn't decide on the right kind. It had basically come down to a single decision: pads or tampons? Although she obviously has very little knowledge as to how either product is utilized, she can make inferences. After shamefully looking back on her nightmare, she assumed that, although it may probably provide a little more security, tampons must be much less comfortable as compared to pads. It was merely the idea of having a foreign object lodged inside one of her bodily orifices for a considerable amount of time that completely turned her off—the thought of it sent shivers down her spine.

She slowly walked down the aisle, glancing briefly on each package. _'Extra absorption or extra comfort?'_ she would ask herself, crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders in embarrassment. She suddenly stopped in her tracks, groaning loudly as she violently stamped down one foot in frustration. At that moment of emotional outburst, she couldn't care less about the few neighboring shoppers in the same aisle. Considering she was browsing in the feminine hygiene aisle, they only assumed that her PMS was getting to her and simply stepped a few extra feet to the side to create a cautionary space cushion. Germany continued swinging her shoulders and her fists rapidly from side to side, like a little girl throwing a tantrum. She was aware of her immature behavior, but it was actually making her feel better, so she continued for a little while longer until she was able to calm her nerves down.

After releasing a long and dragged out sigh, she reached out and grabbed the nearest package of pads beside her, no longer caring about which product suited her best—she's just focused on getting home immediately and letting all this blow over. She rapidly walked down the aisle to get to the nearest cashier, her eyes cast down in frustration and humiliation. As she quickly strolled by, she noticed movement heading her direction from the corner of her eye, but was blinded by her own PMS to react to it soon enough. She jumped lightly when she noticed a hand gently grabbing her forearm, but she was lost for words when she noticed who it was that approached her.

"Uh…Lucia, was it? Do you remember me?" Hungary smiled sweetly. "We met the other week near your boyfriend's place!"

The intense churning of Germany's stomach made it really difficult for her to process a response. "Umm—I-I…"

"I don't know if you remember my name, but you can call me Elizaveta—Lizzie works too, if that's too long~"

'_Respond. Respond. You have to respond.'_

"E-E-Elizaveta's a very p-pretty n-name…"

Hungary giggled and waved a hand. "Oh no, it's just a name~" Germany tried her best to keep it light and casual—it would only seem suspicious if she acted suspicious.

'_She's already being led on by the alias, so there's really no need to worry,'_ she tried reassuring herself.

"N-no, no, I think it's quite a beautiful name," she continued, mustering up a little more confidence than before.

"Oh, you flatter me," she giggled again. "So what brings you here?"

"J-just…an emergency…?" she responded rather sheepishly. Germany noticed Hungary's eyes fall on the box of pads in her hand and immediately blushed out of embarrassment and indecency, but she gave off an indication of understanding.

"Ah, it's that time of the month, huh?"

"Y-yeah…Yeah, it's that time of the month, hehe…"

Hungary sighed. "Yeah, I went through mine just a couple of weeks ago. Ugh…" she commented, rolling her eyes at the experience of it. "So anyway," she continued, "I'm just about finished and on my way to the register. We should go out for some coffee after this!"

Germany laughed lightly and nervously, trying to conjure up an excuse to keep from doing so. She normally didn't mind spending some time with Hungary, but she felt that now isn't exactly the best of times. "I-I'd love to but… (_'What was it again … Cousin! Right…'_) …my cousin Prussia is expecting me back home—he needs me to help with dinner, tonight."

"You and that obnoxious albino are related?" she asked, seemingly surprised, as they walked to the nearest cash register together.

"Oh, Feli didn't mention that, did he…?" She's getting much more confident at keeping up with the disguise.

"No, he didn't…neither did Austria…" she replied, rubbing her chin at the idea of Italy and Austria leaving out this vital piece of information, or rather _mis_information. "But now I can see how you and Italy could have met."

They reached the register, each paying for their own products as they continued their conversation. "So is there a party or something tonight? Why do you need to help Prussia with dinner?" she asked Germany, placing her items in a bag as they walked out the store together. "I didn't know he could even _comprehend _such a task like making dinner..." she mumbled to herself while Germany thought of a viable answer to her question.

"A-actually, I've been around quite often since…since Ludwig went missing. Without him around the house, I'm kind of worried about the state it might be in if Prussia were the one left running it." Germany believed that answer was valid enough, and she knew it to be more than true that if Prussia were the one left to run the house, it would be in a complete and possibly irreversible state of chaos. "Besides," she added, "the poor guy's an emotional wreck right now that his little brother is MIA." What a lie that was. Prussia's throwing just as much of a ruckus as ever, if not more.

"Oh, right, if you and Prussia are cousins, then you must be related to Germany, too," she mentioned more to herself, stating the obvious. "I'm really sorry about Ludwig," she added with a condoling tone.

Germany sighed. "He's only missing…he hasn't been confirmed dead or otherwise yet, so there's still room for hope," she said with an optimistic shrug. As a matter of fact, she really _is _hoping Ludwig would return soon.

Hungary nodded slowly. "You're so right. Ludwig's pretty strong, so I'm confident he'll show up sooner or later," she said confidently, throwing a comforting smile at Germany's direction, who shyly smiled back in response. She found it really peculiar talking about herself like this. "But poor Italy must be worried sick about him," Hungary said with concern.

"You have no idea…" she replied with a slight hint of sarcasm. If by "worried sick" she meant prancing around happily, eating pasta and gelato just as much as ever, and making out with German girls by a river, then yes, he is vomit-inducing worried sick. She then stopped to fully face Hungary. "Well, I better head home now."

"Ah, right. Then I guess I'll see you around then! We really should hang out sometime."

She couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, that sounds nice. I'll let you know when I'm free." With a wave of the hand, she parted ways with Hungary, clinging onto the plastic bag of hygienic goods.

"Say 'hi' to Italy for me~!" she yelled back, waving rapidly. Germany replied with another wave.

'_Oh, God, that was close…'_ she thought with a sigh of relief.

As Hungary turned around to head on home, she rubbed her chin in thought. _'It's kind of weird…even though they're only cousins, she really resembles Ludwig…almost like…twins?'_ She then shrugged off, finding the idea a little incredulous. "Nah…"

::::::::::::::::::::

As she neared home, Germany suddenly felt an unbearable craving for ice cream and beer. She sighed heavily as she unlocked her front door, annoyed by her own raging hormones. Upon entering her front door, she was immediately confronted by her older brother, who sounded quite concerned, yet nonetheless expressed so in his usual overwhelmingly loud voice.

"West! I found rags of blood in the bathroom! Are you hurt your something?" He suddenly grabbed her arm, looking and feeling around for any injuries he wasn't informed of. Unbeknownst to the almighty Prussia, laying his hands on his hormonally-raging little sister would prove to be a fatal mistake.

"_Bruder_," she growled, "could you take a seat for a moment, please?"

"Huh?" Prussia looked up at her in confusion, still gripping her arm. "But I'm checking for injuries—"

"_Now,_" she repeated through gritted teeth, sounding a little more demonic.

"O-okay…" Prussia hesitantly released her arm, backed over to the nearest couch, and took a seat. Germany calmly approached him, setting her plastic bag down on the coffee table. She then crossed her arms, but indicated no threat in the meantime. She then motioned her head over to the dining table behind Prussia.

"What's that on the table?" she asked him calmly, referring to the plate covered in leftover syrup, powdered sugar, and orange zest.

"Oh, that? Haha! I got hungry, so I made some crêpes a while ago and—"

"Why haven't you washed that yet?" she interrupted him.

"Huh? Well…chill, West, I was gonna—"

"'_Chill_?'" she interrupted him yet again, her tone beginning to radiate with malice. "You're telling me to 'chill,' when, as I speak to you, there are ants and other vermin CRAWLING INTO THE HOUSE BECAUSE A SLOB LIKE YOU WOULDN'T WASH HIS OWN DISHES?"

Prussia suddenly found himself backing into his seat as far as he possibly could, feeling absolutely threatened by his little sister at that very moment. He gave off a countenance of fear mixed with utter shock.

"W-whoa there, West, ta-take it easy! I'll wash them in a minute," he assured, bringing up his palms in defense. Suddenly, Austria came stomping from upstairs.

"Excuse me! I'm trying to read up here! Could you please keep your voices down?"

Germany suddenly shot a finger straight at the aristocrat. "AND YOU," she said through gritted teeth. "You better get your freeloading ass down here right now."

Austria was taken aback by her provocative use of words. "I-I beg your pardon? Like I said, I'm in the middle of a good read, and you're so rudely telling me to—"

Germany suddenly interrupted him with a shrill and frightful battle cry, causing Austria to flinch and cover his ears. Even the almighty Prussia cowered in fear before his raging little sister. After letting out an almost fiery breath through her nostrils, she brought her attention back to Austria. "If you don't come down here and sit your freeloading ass down in five seconds, I swear to God, I will materialize the biggest V-2 you've ever seen and annihilate you _right between the eyes._" She emphasized that last part with the heaviest glare she had ever given anyone. Germany meant business and she was not about to take disrespect or disobedience from anyone. Austria slowly raised his hands up in surrender as he cautiously made his way to the couch to take a seat next to Prussia. He made sure to go around the couch, so as not to pass the fiery dragon.

Once Austria seated himself—his hands were still raised out of caution—Germany placed her hands on her hips as she paced by the coffee table, taking deep breaths. She then suddenly leaned into the two victims, causing them both to flinch in terror.

She pointed a finger at Prussia. "You're a slob." She then pointed at Austria. "And you're a lazy freeloader." The two quickly glanced at each other before bringing their attention back to Germany, who pulled away and grabbed the plastic bag on the coffee table.

"_Bruder_, if I find that plate still on the table…if there are _any _unwashed, unorganized dishes and utensils anywhere around the kitchen or dining area after I come out that bathroom…_if I find another rubber duck or panda lying around_…I might just have you packaged and sent to the Gulag." Prussia gulped—his hate for Siberia and fear of the Gulag cannot be expressed in words alone.

"And as for _you,_" she growled, facing Austria who still had his hands up. "Let's see how _you_ like being ordered around like a maid. Make me some dessert and get me a cold bottle of beer. If you don't do as I say, just remember I still have my V-2 targeted…right _here_." She began tapping at the area right between Austria's eyes, making him shake out of anxiety.

With her demands said, she gripped her plastic bag and headed to the nearest bathroom, slamming the door on her way in. Upon hearing the bathroom door slam, both Prussia and Austria released their breath—they had no idea how long they've been holding it, nor did they realize they've been holding it at all.

"Wha…What the hell is _her _problem?" Prussia complained. Austria immediately shushed him.

"You're being loud," he whispered. "She might hear you…" Prussia immediately shut his mouth, realizing what could happen if the dragon heard him complaining behind her back. Austria then motioned his eyes over to the coffee table. "Did you see what was in that bag?"

Prussia gave him a confused look. "No…why?"

Austria sighed. "There was a box of…well…feminine products in there."

He became even more confused. "…And?"

Austria's palm met his face. "Didn't you say something about rags of blood in the trash bin?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Germany is menstruating_._"

"West is _masturbating_?" Prussia nearly yelled out in shock and disgust. Austria shoved his hand over his mouth.

"Shhh! _Menstruating_, you idiot!" He slowly pulled his hand back from Prussia's face.

Prussia began rubbing his chin. "Huh…" Then he snapped his fingers in realization. "West is on her period!"

"That's what 'menstruating' means, idiot." Prussia just scowled at him in response, then got up with a quick stretch.

"Well, I don't wanna get sent to Siberia anytime soon, so I'm gonna get those dishes washed." He went on his way to the dining table, picking up the dishes he had so regretfully left lying around. Before heading towards the kitchen, he turned back to Austria who still sat on the couch. "You better get that cake and beer going, your highness. That V-2's aimed right at you." He then walked off, laughing hysterically.

Austria sighed as he got off the couch, mumbling under his breath "Idiot…"

::::::::::::::::::::

Up in her bedroom, Germany lay in bed, taking bite after bite of the Black Forest cake Austria hastily baked for her (she could almost taste fear in the whipped cream). Three bottles of beer were already laying around on her nightstand, but she didn't feel the slightest bit buzzed. She listened to the buzzing sound of swing music her radio was emitting. Although she knew her boss didn't approve of such upbeat music, she was feeling quite rebellious today—it's against her rules to bring food or any drinks aside from water into any of the bedrooms and even _she_ broke her own rule. Besides, the radio was calming her already burning nerves, so she wasn't about to turn it off anytime soon, so long as she's laying down on her bed, staring whimsically at the ceiling while enjoying Black Forest cake.

After devouring her cake clean off her plate, she placed it on the nightstand alongside the beer bottles lying around, and lay flat on her bed, focused on her white ceiling. A variation of thoughts popped into her mind.

'_Had Prussia done his laundry yet? God, it feels like there's a waterfall between my legs…What did Austria put in that cake that gave it a spicy yet sweet flavor? Maybe it's fear and sweat…'_

She sighed. As she turned on her side, the memory of Italy's touch suddenly appeared in her thoughts. She thought about how he could possibly kiss and please like that. Italy certainly doesn't read manuals of any sort, so that couldn't be the answer. Whatever the answer was, it left a mark on her, even after many hours since it happened. Who knows how long she will be affected by his kiss?

She felt her arms wrap around herself, feeling another wave of cravings wash through her, but this time, it wasn't sweets or beer that she craved—she craved for Italy. She yearned for his warm touch and the feel of his lips against hers, those lips against her neck, moving further down, planting soft touches of affection all along wherever her milky skin remained deliciously exposed until—

"AGH!"

She rolled over onto her front, burying her face into a pillow to drown out another groan of frustration as she kicked constantly against her bed. Just another temper tantrum. She pulled her face from the pillow, facing aside as she let out a deep and somewhat melancholy breath. These feelings she's having…what's bothering her the most is the fact that she's unable to explain them. What's worrying her even more is that it might be the same unexplainable feeling Italy confronted her about the previous evening. She dares not come to the "L" word. She's German, for God's sake—she wouldn't even come close to that word unless she was puking it out in alphabet soup form. The problem is she doesn't know what the "L" word feels like. At all. It's a daunting thought to feel stuck in limbo, not knowing whether she's feeling _that_ or not.

But why of all times is she having these thoughts now? Now, when blood is oozing out from between her legs without mercy and a disastrous mix of rage and melancholy is running rapids through her system? She just satisfied herself with cake, beer, and swing, and realized she is only putting the excess caloric intake to waste if she's going to have unnerving thoughts about what could possibly and most dreadfully be love. She had to get out of her room. She needs to get out of her house again.

Germany sat up, gathering the beer bottles and the dessert plate to bring them downstairs. As she neared the bottom floor, she peeked over the railings, getting a glimpse of Prussia's back through the kitchen walkway. She could hear him humming to an old German drinking song as the faucet ran. When she entered the kitchen, she saw that Prussia was just about finished with his kitchen chores—all the dishes had been washed and the countertops and the stove are sparkling. She suddenly felt terrible for having yelled at him the way she did moments ago (although she didn't feel all that bad about threatening Austria with a V-2 and ordering him to bake her more cake). She placed the beer bottles by the trash bin before approaching her brother with her dessert plate in hand. He felt her presence and immediately turned around, greeting her with a grin.

"Feeling better, baby _Schwester_?"

"Don't push it," she calmly told him, facing the other direction. He then grabbed her plate without a word, catching her off guard. She leaned on the countertop, watching as her brother finished washing that last plate. She sighed, bringing her head down, mumbling something under her breath that Prussia happened to catch.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry…y'know…about how I acted earlier…"

She still faced away from him, so she wasn't sure how he was reacting to her apology. At first she was greeted with silence, but then it was followed by a snort and a chuckle.

"Don't worry about that," he said. "Although, you _could _warn a guy…" he added, indicating her feminine issues.

"Yeah…I'm sorry. I guess it was just…a little too embarrassing." She scratched behind her ear.

"Ah, well, everything is too embarrassing to talk about for you, it seems," he commented, removing the rubber gloves and setting them on the sink. She wasn't hurt by his words—she knew they were true.

"…I think I'll go out for a walk," she told him as she walked over to the coat closet.

"Hmm? Right now?" he asked with concern. "It's getting dark, you know."

"Don't worry," she assured him, buttoning her coat before slipping on some black thigh-high boots. "I shouldn't be long. And even if I am, don't worry about me too much."

An older brother couldn't help but worry, so he went over to the small drawer by the coat closet, pulling out a couple of things. He approached his little sister with items in hand as she just about finished slipping on her boots.

"Here," he said. She looked up at him, finding in his hand a small pistol and a sheathed eight-inch hunting knife. She then gave him a look of incredulity, to which he replied with a shrug. "Just in case some asshole tries to assault you."

She sighed at him as she pulled out from one of her boots an even smaller pistol ready in hand. "You underestimate me."

Prussia just laughed, impressed by her readiness. "As expected from West. Then just put this one in the other boot," he suggested, carelessly shaking around the pistol in his hand. "That way you can hit 'em with a double combo! _Pow pow_!"

She just rolled her eyes as she got up and approached the front door. "Don't wait for me," she said.

"You're not the boss of me," he playfully replied, spinning the pistol around.

She turned around with an expectant look on her face, both eyebrows raised high. "I kind of am." With that said, she quietly closed the door behind her.

::::::::::::::::::::

At first, Germany walked around with no set destination, relishing in the feeling of wandering free. She felt her nerves cooling down as she walked across smooth pavements, focusing on the breeze whistling through the trees. It was best not to think about anything at the moment, so she just relaxed and let her mind wander free.

Much to her dismay, however, her wandering spirit had unconsciously led her to Italy's front door—it must be telling her something. She sighed as she laid eyes on that old wooden door surrounded by vines. She could turn around and head back home, or at least towards another unfamiliar direction, but her hand began moving on its own as it reached up to ring the bell right beside the door. She rocked anxiously on her heels, looking around nervously while she waited for someone to open the door. Half of her hoped that there was nobody home and that it would give her an excuse to head somewhere else, yet her other half hoped that Italy was home to greet her and welcome her in for some homemade dinner. Frankly, it was the latter that had come true, but it wasn't exactly Veneziano that came to open the door.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming, dammit!" she heard muffling through front door. There seemed to be fumbling with locks from behind the door along with a grumbling of grunts and curses. The door suddenly swung open and Germany was met in the face with one of her worst nightmares, Romano. Instead of a string of "buff bastard" and "damn potato-eater" directed at her, however, she was instead greeted with a stunned Romano, whose countenance suddenly transformed into a more charming one as he smoothly greeted her, "Oh…well, _buona sera_, _signorina_." He casually leaned on the doorway, casting a longing gaze at her. Germany was very curious as to how Romano would react to her female guise, but now she was just feeling quite awkward when his eyes started travelling along her figure. She felt just a slight bit more secure under her coat. "I don't think we've met," he cooed. "What's a beautiful lady like you doing here?"

Germany knew she was about to come up with an extremely awkward response. Maybe she could at least try having some fun and utilize her terrible Italian. "I-I'm actually…erm—_Sono la ragazza di suo fratellino._" She knew her accent was horrid, but it wasn't her accent that turned Romano off—it was the fact that the chick he just tried hitting on is actually his little brother's girlfriend.

"Oh…" he grumbled, giving off a countenance of disgrace and disgust. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get him." He walked back further inside the house, bitterly calling for his little brother. "Veneziano, you bastard! Your girlfriend's at the door!"

No matter how smooth Romano tries to be with women, he definitely does not handle rejection well, especially if he had just been put after his little brother in preference. Germany got the hint of Romano's disappointment when he just left her hanging at the doorway and didn't even bother welcoming her in, but she had been used to such behavior since way before already. She took the initiative and welcomed herself in, admiring the old Tuscan feel of the Italian brothers' home. As she took one step at a time along the aged hardwood floor, she heard footsteps coming from her side. Italy emerged from the kitchen walkway. It looks like he was in the middle of cooking a pizza—the white apron he had on was stained with sauce and his hands and hair looked to be covered in a light dusting of flour. On his face was a look of surprise and utter happiness.

"Ger—" Before Italy could even say anything, she immediately put a silent finger to her lips.

"Lu-Lucia," Italy corrected himself before giggling nervously, realizing how close he had come to making a vital mistake with his brother just in the premises. "I didn't know you were coming tonight…"

Germany shrugged and sheepishly placed some strands of hair behind her ear. Italy thought that was just cute. "I know I'm unannounced. I…I hope you're not busy or…" She started blushing again. She knew her visit was impulsive and she's embarrassed by how rude she's probably being at the moment. Italy didn't seem to care. He was actually very happy that she decided to stop by.

"No, no, it's fine~ I'm just about finished making dinner, so you came at just the right time."

He dusted off his hands on his apron and offered to take her coat (which wasn't exactly an offer since he just rushed behind her and immediately began taking it off without a word). He assumed she visited by impulse since her outfit indicated no prep time, that she was first at home and just decided to head out. What he did notice was her top—it was a cropped black shirt that exposed just enough of her sculpted stomach. Italy gulped. He then clapped loudly as if to will away any unnecessary thoughts.

"Well, now that you're here, how about I take you to the kitchen, I'll get the table set, and we can start eating~!" He then grabbed her by the wrist and walked her over to his rustic Tuscan kitchen. Germany could smell basil and melting mozzarella in the air before she found the source lying on the island. Italy had baked a large, rectangular pizza topped with the basics: tomato sauce, tomato slices, basil, and large hunks of fresh mozzarella. Her cravings were kicking in again.

Italy led her over to the dining table and offered her a seat before heading over to the large pan of pizza. "So what brings you over?" he asked her, putting on mittens so as not to burn himself while carrying the large pan over to the table. Germany didn't really have an answer so she just shrugged.

"I didn't feel like being in the house, so I started walking around and somehow made it over to your place."

Italy carefully placed the pizza on a stand on the table. He smiled at her. "I'm really happy you came over. Now we have one more person over for dinner~" He then ran over by the staircase to call over Romano. "Big brother~! The pizza's ready!"

From where Germany sat, she could hear him grumbling, saying something in Italian about heading out for dinner by himself. He was obviously still unhappy about having his little brother's girlfriend over for dinner—he'd rather not deal with the fact that he's single while Veneziano's taken. Immediately after a slam of the door, Italy walked back into the kitchen with a low "Ve."

"I guess big brother's not eating with us tonight…which means…" He then rushed over to the seat across from Germany, chucking his apron on the countertop on the way. "It's just you and me again, my dear~" She offered a small smile as she timidly reached her hand over to grab a pizza slice.

"M-may I?"

"Oh, _si, si_, go ahead!"

::::::::::::::::::::

They mostly ate in silence, although every now and then Germany would either comment on how delicious his pizza was or how beautiful his house is. Italy, on the other hand, acted normally, making odd pleased sounds as he took bites of his pizza. Italy understands his own appetite, but he was left shocked when Germany ended up eating just as many slices as he did, if not more. He knew regular old Germany had a considerable appetite considering his abundance in muscle mass, but he certainly didn't expect that much from female Germany. Even after about eight slices of pizza, she still wasn't satiated—she was still craving for something sweet and maybe something warm on the side.

"Italy, I hope you don't mind me asking, but…do you have any gelato?" she asked him, which only worked to further shock him. Germany blushed as she started to feel a lot like a freeloader, but she only worked to make Italy all the more happier.

He replied with a cheerful and excited "Ve~" as he ran over to his fridge, claiming that there are lots of gelato leftover. "What flavor would you like?"

"_Anything_, so long as I'm getting something sweet," she said.

In no time, Italy prepared two deep bowls of pistachio flavored gelato for the two of them. After handing Germany her bowl, he leaned over behind her and whispered in her ear, "Wanna sit out on the deck?"

"Wha—Do you always have to ask me things that way?" she asked him, blushing madly.

Italy giggled. "No, but I just think it's really cute how you blush whenever I do that."

Germany scowled, but nonetheless allowed him to take her hand and lead her to the back of the kitchen through a set of two doors leading to his deck. From there, they were blessed with a view of the Tuscan hillsides and the neighboring city of Siena. Italy led her towards a copper swing bench on his deck, on which he plopped himself with a bubbly "Ve~" Germany just sat herself down on the other side of the bench and slowly took spoonfuls of the gelato to her mouth.

There they sat on the swing bench, enjoying their gelato as the bench swayed with the breeze and their movements. The sun had already set and the weather had become slightly chilly. Italy remembered leaving Germany's coat inside, but instead of getting up to grab it for her, he asked if she wanted to snuggle up against him to keep warm. Although his choice of words somewhat turned her off, Germany took up his offer—after all, it's his warmth that she had been craving for, which was probably the same reason why she impulsively came over to visit him in the first place. She started scooting over from her end of the bench closer to his end, her bowl of gelato still in hand. Italy lifted one leg onto the bench and positioned himself accordingly, so that she could sit snuggly between his legs. Although she found some opposition towards the position he had put her in, after lifting both her legs onto the bench and leaning back into his chest, she deemed it warm, comfortable, and altogether suitable, or at least tolerable.

They continued enjoying their gelato in silence. It was very rare for the two of them to share such calm and quiet moments together, from their previous evening out to their dinner this very night. Normally, Italy would constantly be rambling about some random subject, ranging from the clouds he counted in the sky to the ravioli he had for lunch two weeks earlier. But it seems that the more he grew accustomed to this female Germany, the tamer he acted, and she certainly didn't mind it. Germany relished in the feel of the swing lightly rocking back and forth, the cool evening Mediterranean breeze, the light sound of the rustling of cypress trees, the lights of Siena from afar, and, most of all, the warmth radiating from the Italian boy behind her. The sweet and nutty flavor of the pistachio gelato melting in her throat only complimented this smooth and relaxing moment she was experiencing. On a day when she was reckless and restless, this is the kind of simple paradise she just needed to calm her nerves. Once they were done with their bowls, Italy placed the both of them atop each other on a nearby patio table. He then proceeded to wrap his arms around her waist from behind, bringing her closer to his chest. Although doing so made her feel so vulnerable and weak, she gave in to weakness and leant her head against his chest. If she listened closely, she could hear the steady beat of his heart. For all her life, the feeling of vulnerability had always proven a warning or a threat to her, especially in the battlefield, but never did she realize how beautiful the feeling of surrender could feel sometimes. Maybe now she could partly understand why Italy surrenders all the time…_ 'Because it feels good?'_ Germany shook her head, deeming the theory slightly silly, but at the same time it still seems to make sense.

She needed this. She needed to let go for just a moment and ignore all feelings, all impulses. Yet she found it so ironic how in order to drown out those weird feelings that have been bothering her, she comes back to the one who was most likely causing them. She would only find it harder to let go of those emotions when Italy gently propped her up little by little until his lips were able to reach her neck. She craned her head to expose a little more of her skin—she doesn't know why she did it, but she blames it on her weird cravings. She released a soft, dragged out sigh, his lips skimming slowly along the juncture between her neck and her shoulder. In no time, he pulled her in for a deep one.

The way they were positioned made access all the more easy for Italy. For the first time, Germany felt his tongue against her own, making smooth and slow motions that simply took her breath away, the sweet and melted taste of pistachio mingling between them. She felt her hand rise to finger through his hair, the other placing itself atop his hand on her stomach, which only started to feel beneath her cropped shirt. He felt her arch against him, attempting to maintain the passionate dance between their mouths without being distracted by the hands exploring her skin, but having to deal with both simultaneously just drove her crazy. She knew she had just lost the game—those feelings she only tried drowning out a few moments ago have returned in full-force, and she did nothing but heighten them, being so careless as to allow the warmth of Italy's touch overcome her.

Germany abruptly pulled away, slowly sitting up and letting her legs swing off the bench as she left that addicting warmth. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand, embarrassed over how their saliva mingled like that. She could hear a soft "Ve" from behind her; Italy must be worried that he did something wrong again. She gave off an audible sigh.

"Italy. Don't you think we're taking this too far?" she asked without turning around. She felt him tense. The bench vibrated a little as he rapidly shook his head and waved his hands as if in heavy denial.

"Ah—I-I wasn't even thinking about going _that_ far! Ve…" Such possibilities made her blush furiously.

"N-no, not just this—I mean…this—this relationship…it's like we're not even trying to cover up anything anymore. It feels…It feels…"

"…Real?"

That single word Italy just used had obliged her to turn around, look him in the eye, and utter those words that she had never before spoken to anyone, not even herself. "…I'm kind of…afraid."

Italy stared back at her intently—she was not accustomed to such a serious look on his face. "You're afraid to love?"

"No! It's not that—it's…" She let out a shallow sigh, turning away from him. "I don't know…"

For a moment, she received no response, but soon enough, she felt two arms wrap around her from behind in an embrace. Italy leaned in from behind her, resting his head on her shoulder. "It's okay to be afraid," he said softly.

She turned her head and gave him a slightly confused look, to which he only responded with a small, understanding smile. "I used to be kind of afraid, myself…" Germany responded with a look of slight surprise and interest.

He sighed softly before continuing, "My first love left me with a single kiss…and after that, I never saw him again." Germany felt his arms tighten his hold on her ever so slightly, afraid that she might just slip through his fingers and disappear forever.

"I don't know if you could imagine how hurt I was when I found out what happened to him…"

As curious as she was about his story, she didn't want to hurt him by asking him what happened.

"But…" He then gave out a determined breath. "Even then, I can't let that keep me down forever." She noticed how his eyes began to sparkle with comfort and determination and maybe something a little bit deeper…

"Just because I lost one great love doesn't mean I'll lose one after another. Even if I am afraid, if I realize I love someone, I can't fight those feelings—we all have to love somebody sometimes. That's just the way life goes." He smiled at her. Leave it to an Italian to offer an insightful lecture on love. Germany would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't affected by his words, yet she still felt bothered.

"See…that's my problem…" She sighed deeply. "_You_ certainly know what it feels like to have loved someone, but I…I don't even have a clue as to what it is I'm feeling right now, and it's such a nuisance!" She crossed her arms, facing away from him again. "I don't want to call it _that_ when I don't even know what it feels like."

"Ve…I'm sure you know what it feels like. You probably just don't realize that you're feeling it."

"T-that's a possibility…"

"Like, hmm…" He brought a finger to his lip. "Like when you feel like you need to protect or take care of someone…or when you feel very happy being around someone…or when you feel your heartbeat quicken when you're around someone. Those are some ways you can tell that you love somebody."

Italy's words helped her ponder over whether she has ever felt love before, and having done that certainly didn't do anything to ease her anxiety. She realized that those few examples he had given her—she felt _all_ of those around Italy. As much as a nuisance it is to constantly be looking after Italy, it's something she definitely didn't mind doing—the last thing she'd ever want is for her ally and her friend to get hurt. Despite the raise in blood pressure she would sometimes experience just being around him, he certainly made her feel happy—in fact, she loved having him around. And that last point he mentioned—she is feeling it that very moment. His arms wrapped around her waist. His head leaning on her shoulder. She turned to the side only to be met by his large maroon eyes gazing sweetly at her. He began showering her with affection again. His lips against her temple, against her cheek, against her jaw line, against her neck. Germany has never had her heart beat this fast in the middle of battle—not when he ran for thirty kilometers with thirty kilograms on his back; not when he was in the trenches shooting at whomever shot at him; not when he hid in the shrubs from those who sought to take him in as prisoner. But she recognized this feeling—the way he felt so nervous when he was about to take Italy out for that final dinner. That same feeling from that terrible night, it only increased tenfold.

Her heart was racing, and it might just explode.

Italy's lips were on her pulse, and he certainly felt it. The rapid thumping, the rushing flow of blood coursing through her veins. He looked at her with concern. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her brow furrowed, her cheeks were blazing hot. "V-Ve…Germany? A-Are you okay?"

She couldn't take it anymore.

"RAAAAAHHH!"

With a shrill cry, she abruptly pulled away from Italy's arms and practically ran rampant across the deck with her arms swinging in the air until the railings stopped her (was she really thinking about jumping?). She gripped tightly on the railings. With her back against them, she slowly melted onto the floor, it seemed like. Italy cowered in fear—he's extremely afraid he may have showered Germany with too much affection and led her to the brink of insanity.

"Ve!" he cried. "I'm so sorry!"

Germany found her way down to the floor, still gripping to the iron railings. Her knees were bunched, her back against the railings, breathing heavily. Releasing that much anxiety in one concentrated moment was certainly very tiring. She leant her head against the railings and closed her eyes. She felt so tired, she could fall asleep then and there. When Italy noticed her fall limp on the floor against the railings, he ran to her, extremely concerned that her heart might have actually exploded. He knelt in front of her, brushing strands of hair off her face. He gave off a sigh of relief when he noticed she was still breathing, much more softly than before.

"G-Germany…?"

She cracked one eye open and saw how concerned Italy was—he was just about crying. "I am…_so_ sorry I did that," she breathed out.

"Ve…" he cried, placing his hands against her cheeks. "Oh my God, what did I just _do_ to you?"

She weakly shook her head. "It's not you…I'm just…" She blushed, her brow furrowing. "I'm on my period," she whispered through gritted teeth.

Italy's brow furrowed, a confused "Ve" seeping out. Then his expression brightened again, "Oh! That's why Germany's acting extra scary and weird…"

She groaned lightly out of frustration and embarrassment. "I hate it so much…" she grumbled.

"Ve~ I'll just get you a cold glass of milk—I heard it helps with PMS."

She looked back at him, a lazy look of interest on her face. "Oh, does it?"

Italy then caught her by surprise when he brought two arms underneath her and swiftly lifted her up bridal style. "WAH! Wha—How are you—I-Italy!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, afraid that he might just drop her once he reached his limits, which she personally knew don't go very far. The fact that she was being carried inside this way—by Italy nonetheless—made her blush furiously.

"Ve~ Germany's really tired. I don't want her collapsing anytime soon."

'_And you're just the exception?_' she thought nervously as she huffed and puffed. "Aren't I heavy? What if you fall over?"

"You're not full of muscles anymore, so you've actually gotten a lot lighter~" he cheerfully replied. "Thank goodness you're not fat, either," he added playfully.

"Hmm…"

She preferred not to be carried at all, especially this way, but since this would only be between the two of them, she didn't mind it so much and just went with the flow, leaning her head against his shoulder as he carried her.

The way she used her menstruation as an excuse for her rampant behavior earlier—it was only partly true. She didn't want to come near that word "love" just yet, so she placed the blame of these intense feelings on her hormones. However, she certainly didn't mind dragging it on like this, at least until she is ready to accept these feelings she has for Italy. She decided to stop fighting her urges and hesitantly planted a soft kiss against Italy's pulse as he carried her.

"Ve~" he giggled, "that tickles, Germany!"

They had made it back into his kitchen, and Italy was just about to reach the dining table and gently place Germany down on a seat, but just a few feet before they came close to the table, Germany already felt Italy's legs quivering—his legs were about to give.

"I-Italy, don't push yourself!" she warned him, clinging a bit more tightly onto his neck.

"V-ve…almost…there…"

He reached the dining table, trying to slightly lift one leg so that he could hook it onto one of the chair's legs, pull the chair back, and seat Germany on it. But once he lifted his leg merely one inch off the floor, he immediately lost balance and fell backwards with Germany still in his arms, lethally wringing onto his neck for dear life as they both came crashing down onto the hardwood floor with a loud thump and a shrill "WAAAH!"

The entire house seemed to rattle once their bodies made impact with the floor. Italy's back lay flat on the floor while Germany lay on top of him. She didn't suffer much damage since Italy had cushioned her fall once again, only this time it was unintentional—luckily for her, he just had to fall backwards onto the floor instead of forwards and onto the dining table. Poor Italy, however, was sandwiched in pain between the cold unforgiving floor and a full-grown German woman on top of him. He certainly didn't mind the latter part of the pain, though.

Germany shot up, placing her hands on his chest. "I-Italy! Are you okay?"

"Ve…" he quietly whined.

"Y-you idiot!" she scolded him as she straddled his waist, lightly hitting him on the chest. "I told you not to push yourself!"

"I…I'm sorry…" he wheezed. "You…almost…got hurt…"

She just sighed as her palm met her forehead. "I'm not worried about that! I'm worried about you! Here, I'll help you over to the couch." She was about to stand and lend Italy a hand, but he then yanked her back down onto his waist.

"No~ I like it here on the floor with you on top~"

She rolled her eyes, cheeks on fire. "Ugh…"

Germany leaned forward and crossed her arms on his chest, her face hovering just above Italy's. His cute smile compelled her to place a peck on his lips, which grew into a brief kiss. "I wish you wouldn't be so careless and clumsy. You make me worry too much…" she muttered after pulling away and resting her head on his shoulder.

He weakly giggled. "Germany makes me worry, too, sometimes," he said barely above a whisper, placing his hands on the small of her back. She growled at him when she felt one of his hands slowly drag down to her bottom.

"Touch my ass and I'll bite your nose off."

"V-Ve!"

Yeah. She certainly didn't mind dragging it on like this.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: chapter title = "Red" (FOR BLOOD!) in German (; funny thing is that just before i updated with this chapter, i just ended my period the day before :P i hope you guys enjoyed my rendition of dragonlady!Germany :D i'm sure i could have made it much worse, but i wasn't planning on killing anyone off anytime soon, so i made her fiery side pretty tame ;P

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as the last one~ i'll write up chapter 10 first and then post up chapter 8 :D just a warning, from chapter 8 and thereon out till the very end, it will get _pretty _serious :O and another warning, i apologize in advance if i end up posting much later than i usually do—i'm looking at a really busy two-weeks ahead of me, so i might not be able to write up the next chapter as quickly as i usually do (;~;) so please be patient~! AND CONTINUE SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME~! :D


	8. Gefahr

**Chapter 8 - Gefahr**

On that dreadful week when blood gushed out of Germany by the boatloads, Italy calmed her down and lifted her up whenever she felt sick, weary, or in pain. She was quite surprised that he could muster enough courage to even get close to her during her time of fiery rage and extreme mood swings, considering how scared he would be of her in her usual character—even Prussia kept his distance more than usual that entire week. Italy would visit her, with buckets of gelato and boxes of cakes in arms just to keep her cravings satisfied. He realized that the best solution when dealing with a woman during her times of emotional instability is to satisfy her in every way possible, and that was just what he did.

When they ate cake or gelato together, he would keep up a conversation just to keep the mood light, but once she hissed for him to keep quiet, he would do as she says—whatever made her happy. When she sat scrunched up on her couch trying to keep the waves of spontaneous cramps at bay, he would make her hot tea and then play the guitar while singing songs from her favorite operas—the happiness she felt upon feeling the warmth of chamomile tea relaxing her stomach and hearing the sweet sound of Italy's less-than-average singing was enough to drown out the pain in her lower abdomen. When she felt the need to kill in order to release her rage—times when she actually wanted to be on the battlefield in the middle of action—Italy immediately drove her to the nearest hunting grounds, with all her dogs and just about her entire arsenal in the back seat. There, she would shoot mercilessly at unsuspecting fowl until she felt all her murderous intent escape her. Times like these, Italy would wait patiently in his car, extremely afraid of being around an emotionally unstable Germany with gun in hand—better the birds than him, he thought. But once he caught sight of her walking back to his car, dogs on either side, hunting rifle rested on her shoulders, and a satisfied look spread across her face, he knew he had done her well. Frankly, the way she would have her hunting jacket tied around her waist and leave on her torso nothing but that tight cropped tank showing off her firm and fair skin just turned him on. That entire image only reminded him that she was still the same Germany he knew, but the fact that he had been materialized into the flesh of a woman only made it seem more like a dream come true for Italy. She simply filled him with longing, with excitement, with sheer happiness. It was unreal to him. Somehow, he didn't want this female Germany to leave his side, yet one of his biggest fears is to lose the Germany he knew so well...

As for Germany, she didn't mind this relationship dragging on, so she let it drag on. But it certainly didn't feel like it was dragging on. No, it didn't feel like a drudgery of a fake relationship where every passing moment of her life she would be thinking _'My God, when is it going to end?_' It would be a lie to claim that Germany had not once questioned the integrity of this relationship—after all, they only both agreed to it as means of protecting her identity—but if "pretending" was all they had to do, she is certainly enjoying every minute of this elaborate façade. Yet the idea that all they had committed to would be nothing but an act stung her. Her feelings for Italy continued increasing in strength, and the very idea that he may either be acting it all out or only be in love with this girl named Lucia was distressing. She decided not to dwell on the possibility, lest she would only exacerbate her stress levels. The protection of her own identity is her primary motivation for letting herself being led on this way. She put up with the slight pain of pretending and sometimes truly believing that what they had was real. For the time being, it was her only excuse to get this close to and this intimate with Italy. He had every excuse to lay his lips and hands on her as much as he pleased, and she had every excuse to relish in every second and every bit of his touch. It wouldn't be considered the slightest bit off because if they were supposed to be "lovers," then they better act like they were. Besides, if Lucia made Italy _this _happy, then Germany is more than willing to acquiesce to his wishes, despite her own suffering. It had certainly reached that point.

Meanwhile, the MIA story had liberated her. She was free to do as she pleased. There were no paperwork or military affairs that needed immediate attention—all of such were either left to her brother or to Japan. All her free time meant that Italy could come over whenever he wished and Germany had no real reason to deny him whenever he felt like going out. In fact, she made no efforts to conjure up any reason against a day with Italy. Sometimes she wondered if Italy even ever had any work he had to do himself—he was part of this war, after all—but she knew better than to even imagine a hard-working Italy. She ignored those possibilities—she would much rather have him pay her a visit than work on whatever the world it was that he needed to work on.

He did everything for her. He took her everywhere. One day, they would be having a large pizza lunch along the coast of Naples, and the next, they would be having coffee in Leipzig shortly before taking a stroll through the nearby botanical garden. They would take excursions along the Danube or through Venice on gondolas, toasting with finger-glasses of Champagne or conversing casually along canals. The times they spent along the Mediterranean coastlines were Germany's favorite. The time when Italy had taken her to Monte Conero was just nothing short of a dream—the turquoise waters, the warm Italian sun, the sweet Mediterranean breeze, the white aged cliff sides that surrounded her. She would chase madly after Italy (after kicking sand her direction, that statement was literal enough—she'd be furious), distracted by the sand under her toes and the occasional touch of temperate waters. Italy's stamina always surprised her as he sent her on long chases across white sands. Somehow these chase scenes always end up with them toppling one another, rolling all across sandy terrain, their lips all over the place. Such moments were just like what Germany read in her numerous romance novels, which only made her question the reality of it all, although the way Germany tried to grab a hold of Italy with such murderous intent made it seem more like a one-sided wrestling match than romantic playfulness. Surprisingly, Italy would be the one to pin her down first, planting kisses all over her neck and collarbone as her eyes fluttered from the weight of this brief and sweet moment of surrender, before she abruptly and forcefully pushes him off and onto the sand, straddling him on the way. The way she would so suddenly overpower him and declare her supremacy upon him was altogether enticing for Italy. Germany would cross her arms, her thighs gently hugging either side of his waist, while she lectured him over his recklessness and "disregard" for others, but the only thing he was disregarding were the words coming out of her mouth. From where she straddled him, he dragged his palms along her thighs and across her olive capris, reaching beneath her loose black tank. She would blush and try to pry his curious hands away from her, voicing high-pitched and flustered protests. Despite her protests, Italy would always end up victorious in the end, giggling and tickling on the way—he's never going to stop playing around.

Somehow, no matter where they went, the two always ended up tangled in each other's hold, Germany held tightly in Italy's amorous embrace. If anything, Italy almost made her forget how much she wanted to become her normal male self again. Italy is just too talented—he really knew how to make her feel like a woman, and he definitely made her feel like being his woman is the best role anyone could possibly have. A couple of weeks ago, Germany felt cursed for having lost her manhood, but in only a matter of time, Italy made this curse feel like the greatest blessing she had ever received. To think that of all those who could put her in such a state of vulnerability, it would be Italy.

It was all a very enjoyable, very convincing façade. She almost didn't want it to end, because if ever she reverted to her male self, God knows if Italy would ever love her the same way again. She definitely didn't want to lose his love, no matter how desperate it made her seem.

She's going to let it drag on…

::::::::::::::::::::

"_Bruder_, could you make yourself useful and get the table ready, please?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it…" he grumbled disapprovingly as he carelessly threw around the china and the silverware on the dining table. Austria, who was helping with dinner in the meantime, scolded him for such reckless behavior. "Don't throw around the silverware, you buffoon! You'll get scratches on them! And I don't know if you've realized, but fine china is actually very _fragile_," he pieced the word "fragile" as if he were talking to a kindergartener.

"_Blah, blah, blah_ is all I hear," he interjected. "_I'm_ setting the table. I'm doing it _my _way!"

"Could you two _please_?" she grumbled hopelessly, rubbing at her temples. Italy stood beside her, patting her in the back when he noticed her migraine coming along, stirring the meat sauce and the spaghetti all the while.

Prussia insisted that Italy come over for dinner one night, and Germany certainly didn't find any protest against it. What more, Italy was so kind as to offer to help with dinner. Of course, he would be one to bring in boxes of spaghetti and handfuls of tomatoes. It seems the German household is having Italian for dinner, but not without a touch of some of _their_ own comfort food. As Italy was just about finished blanching his spaghetti and cooking his meat sauce, Germany was also finishing up with her large set of the finest sausages anyone could find. Italy suggested that she boil her sausages along with his pasta, hypothesizing that all of its meaty flavor would infuse itself into the spaghetti. Although she found the idea completely absurd, she conceded, as it certainly saved water and time. Once they had both finished their parts, Italy served the pasta on a large dish and poured his perfected Bolognese sauce on top, while Germany positioned all those sausages either around the plate or on top of the mountain of pasta. As simple as the dish was, to the two of them it actually looked like a masterpiece. Italy pranced over to the table with large dish in hand—Germany had to yell at him to slow down, lest he fall over and spread the mountain of pasta all over the expensive rugs and hardwood flooring—while Austria and Germany got the drinks ready. Italy and Austria settled with a bottle of well-aged red wine, while Germany prepared a pint of beer for herself and her brother. They took a few moments to settle around the table and say grace before digging their forks into the pasta and the sausage.

Their dinner all the while was casual and lighthearted. Italy smelled basil and nostalgia in the air as Austria lectured him constantly over his table manners. Meanwhile, as Austria lectured Italy to hold his fork properly, Prussia would heartily express his approval of the dish Italy and Germany had made together, spraying his beer in different directions, causing disproval from the aristocrat across from him. "Do you mind?" Austria would yell at him, wiping off speckles of beer and food particles off his glasses with his napkin. This was a regular occurrence for Germany, and Italy simply found the ruckus to be amusingly energetic.

"How's the _wurst_?' she asked.

"How's the pasta?" Italy retaliated playfully.

"I asked you first."

"Well~ I won't say it's good unless you tell me the pasta's good, first."

"Don't play with me," she growled with annoyance, gruesomely stabbing an innocent sausage on her plate with her fork.

"V-Ve!"

As the couple discussed the outcome of their edible creation, Prussia suddenly remembered to make mention of something he took note of on his calendar earlier. "Hey, by the way, West," he spoke out to grab her attention, "the higher-ups say they're holding a fancy-pansy luncheon next week."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "For what occasion?"

Prussia shrugged. "Something about expressing future plans of plowing France into the ground. I don't even get the point of it—it's more like a fancy political get-together than a party." He gave a false shiver to express his distaste towards the matter. "Whatever the case, you're not going to let me bear the boredom of politics all alone, so you better tag along," he demanded.

She replied with a slightly worried look. Although she believes her own heavy participation in politics is vital to getting the agenda the done—unlike her brother, who easily loses interest in many subjects—she was still uneasy about the idea of socializing with her colleagues as a woman. "I'm not sure if I like the sound of that…"

"Sure you do," he encouraged. "You're just scared of going anywhere," he teased her.

"And for good reason," she retaliated. "Let's see…" She began counting off her fingers one by one. "There's Saxony, there's Bavaria, there's Hessen, there's you, et cetera, et cetera…Now tell me, _Bruder_—because I'm sure the officers have definitely heard about 'Lucia' already—how do you explain this new 'cousin' of yours whose existence was only revealed since a few weeks ago?"

Prussia rolled his eyes. "By golly, West, you overthink _everything_. So you're not as big as your big brothers—big deal. You can be _distantly_ related—with distance given, we could make it as far as you could possibly fit comprehensibly in a family tree. You could even be right outside the family tree. Either way, you'd still be 'related' wouldn't you?"

Germany sighed through her nose, still expressing a look of doubt towards her brother's ideas. "You're still coming as my 'cousin,'" he insisted. "If they have to ask, I'll just say you're 'distantly' related," he made air-quotations upon the word "distantly" just to place emphasis. He noticed Germany re-avert her attention back on her dinner plate, silently twirling a forkful of pasta with a blank expression. "You know," he continued as he cut through another sausage, "if they all believe that the nation of Germany had actually gone 'missing,' do you really think they're going to give a shit about Cousin Lucia or Aunt Gertrude?"

She shrugged in defeat of her brother's logic, her brow furrowing at the random mention of an Aunt Gertrude. "I guess I see you're point…" With that answer, an idea hit her. She turned to face Italy, "You should come, too," she suggested.

"Ve…Am I welcome to come?" he asked with slight hints of doubt—the last thing he wanted to be is a nuisance amidst a building full of socializing German officers. Germany turned back to her brother with a questioning look on her face. "…_Bruder_?"

Prussia rubbed his chin thoughtfully before replying to her single-worded question with a shrug. "Your boss and my boss are butt-buddies," he answered. "I don't see why they won't be happy to see you there."

"Ve~!" he cheered with excitement. "More food!"

"Hey! I don't want you heading over there just to suck up all the wine and hors d'oeuvres!" she scolded him.

"Ve…Yes, ma'am," he sorrowfully replied with a salute.

"Damn, West, don't make your man look so whipped—it must be humiliating for him," Prussia commented with much distaste, to which Germany replied with a purse of the lips and a huff through her nose.

"Ve, it's okay," Italy said in the sidelines to try and lighten the tension. "Germany tells me off all the time, so I'm used to it."

"_Nein, Italien_!" he yelled as he slammed his palm on the table, causing the dining ware to rattle and Italy to cower. "You don't just sit idly and allow people to dump their shit on you!" he proudly proclaimed, abruptly standing and stamping one foot on his chair in yet another stance of supremacy, his fist raised in proclamation of power, which Austria only found to be obnoxious.

"I don't approve of you acting so childishly at the dinner table," Austria scoffed.

"Shut the hell up, I wasn't talking to you," Prussia replied with an accusing finger.

"V-Ve…"

Amidst the chaos along the dinner table, Germany took advantage of the distraction all around her and mumbled under her breath, "I'm sorry."

Italy definitely caught the sound of her meek voice and turned his head her direction. "Ve?"

"_Bruder's _right—maybe I do boss you around too often…"

Italy replied with an understanding sigh. "Like I said, you do it all the time so I'm used to it." From underneath the table, Italy placed his hand atop hers on her lap. "I want Germany to stay the same even while he's a girl, so don't change anything about yourself."

Her brow furrowed with the unexpectancy of his touch and his willingness to forgive her usual demeanor. She immediately brought her attention back down to the pasta and the sausages on her plate, trying to distract herself from the heat rising to her cheeks.

::::::::::::::::::::

Italy returned to Germany's front door once again on Wednesday noon, dressed in his military best just as she requested him. He was in the middle of straightening out the kinks and crinkles of his trousers when Prussia—who also dressed his military best—abruptly opened the door for him. On his face was an uncharacteristically serious look.

"Ve…I know I'm late, but…"

"Yeah, I knew you were gonna be late," he interrupted him. "That's why the meeting time I gave you is actually an hour earlier than the original time," he explained with a grin.

Italy was a little dumbfounded, but surely impressed, grateful that he hadn't come late after all—who knows what would've happened if Germany caught him arriving an hour late again. "Ve…That was a good idea!"

Prussia shrugged, a smug look clearly plastered on his face. "What can I say? I'm smart _and_ awesome," he boasted as he popped his collar for emphasis and led him inside. Upon taking his first steps into the house, Italy heard the strong sound of heels clacking on hardwood floors coming from one of the salons near the main living room.

"Is Italy here yet?" Germany asked sternly from the salon, probably worried that Prussia's plan wouldn't work out and that Italy would still arrive late.

She glided into the living room and into the foyer, slipping on her elbow-length gloves all the while only to look up and find the boy she was just asking for gazing at her with a mesmerized look on his face. Italy had been examining her outfit with much interest ever since she so gracefully strolled out of one room and into his view. On top of her black chiffon blouse, she wore an olive jacket with butterfly sleeves, her shoulders draped with a rich stole of fox fur, the iron cross he gave her pinned along her right lapel. She covered her arms with black elbow-length leather gloves and in one hand she held the same gold Chanel pocketbook she brought with her on their date. From the waist down past her knees, she wore a matching olive skirt tied with the same gold belt (she grew fond of that gold belt). She braved a pair of black suede high-heeled platform boots that run all the way up her legs and seem to disappear into her skirt. Italy let his eyes travel back up, noticing how she had styled her blonde pixie into a much more sleek and combed look with her fringe swept smoothly along her forehead rather than the textured tousles she usually went along with, so that more attention could be focused on her black cocktail hat, decorated with what looked to be falcon feathers. The only piece of jewelry she donned was a long and thin cable chain necklace that held together a small medley of Bohemian charms, such as pearls, gold lacquered leaves, aged bronze coins, and tiny copper-etched feathers.

Italy had to admit to himself, he was a little disappointed at how Germany had so meticulously covered herself from nearly head to toe with fabric (with gloomy weather of twelve degrees Celsius, it couldn't be helped), but he also had to admit that over the course of only a few weeks of being female, Germany had also developed a great sense of fashion all on her own. The way her ensemble was put together gave her such an air of sophistication and high-standing, and seemed to inform people that she meant business and was not one who played around—it seemed like a way to remind herself that, even as a woman, she is one of high military rank, without overdoing the military flair. She had also become walking proof for Italy that full-coverage does not always diminish sexual appeal. Her newly developed sense of high fashion made up for the loss of skin exposure—she is still a sight to behold.

"I don't remember buying you any of those clothes," Italy commented with much amusement.

"You didn't," she replied with a slightly smug expression on her face. "I went to Berlin a few days ago, had this outfit tailored just for the occasion," she explained. "Although, you _did_ buy me this blouse," she added, fingering the ribbon along the neckline of her chiffon blouse. Italy grinned in approval and amusement, while Prussia shook his head and gave an expression of slight incredulity.

"When the boss sets up events like these, she gets really serious about them," he explained with a sigh.

"You know it," she replied sassily, placing a hand on her hip. Italy eagerly approaches her with one big step and offers his hand, "May I take your hand, _signorina_?"

Germany replied with an expectant look, offering a delicate gloved hand to her one and only Latin boy. Right as they were about to stroll through the front door, Germany turned around and directed her brother, "We're taking the Benz there—make sure you've got the right keys." With that said, the couple made their way out of the house, Prussia following with a roll of his eyes. "Whatever you say, _gnädige Frau_," he replied mockingly.

::::::::::::::::::::

Although the weather had started off slightly gloomy upon their departure, the sun managed to make some brief appearances once they had reached the clean-cut hedges and emerald greenery of Sanssouci. Prussia had the rooftop of their convertible Mercedes lowered, so that they could relish in the slightly chilly spring breeze and the rustling of the arbors that enclosed them from either side as they neared the grand palace in the distance. It was very unusual for Germany to be seated in the back seat, especially in her own car, but Prussia felt uneasy about having a woman handle the car, despite the fact that Germany still retained her driving skills. Yet having the back seat entirely to herself and two men up front dressed in their military best to escort her made her feel like royalty. Without having to dedicate her attention to the wheel and the road in front of her, she could freely avert her attention to the greenery that surrounded her, the fountains they drove by, and the breeze rustling through trees. Having the rooftop lowered with this mild breeze blowing by, she felt lucky to have hair so short—she wouldn't have to deal with the nuisance of untangling lengths and lengths of blonde once the car had come to a halt in front of the steps and terraces that led to the Sanssouci Palace.

Prussia and Italy were the first to exit the car, Italy immediately opening Germany's door before she could even reach for the handle. He took her by the hand and carefully led her out of the Mercedes, so that she would be less likely to break a heel or her ankle with a single misstep. As they walked around the car towards the flight of stairs, the couple noticed Prussia standing just ahead of them, his hands on his waist as he admired the intricate Rococo design and the water-stained copper roof from afar with much melancholic nostalgia. He breathed a hearty sigh through his nose. "It's a little too early in the season to be here right now," he commented more or less to himself as he proceeded up the flight of stairs. As the couple distantly followed behind, Italy was struck with slight concern and whispered to Germany, "Is Prussia okay?"

"He's fine," she answered casually. "This palace used to be Friedrich II's summer getaway, so _Bruder_ used to tag along often. He's just reminiscing."

Italy slightly pursed his lips and nodded in understanding. Something about the choice of venue had Germany thinking that the Sanssouci was deliberately chosen just to ignite Prussia's melancholy towards the lack of Old Fritz's presence, and it certainly seemed evident from the moment Prussia suddenly fell down on his knees in comic despair while in the middle of climbing the flight of stairs.

"I fucking can't go in there!" he sobbed. "Not without Old Fritz!"

Germany, who definitely expected an exaggerated emotional outburst sometime soon, groaned in annoyance, the urge to kick her brother all the way up the stairs rising dangerously within her. She let go of Italy's hand and stomped her way up towards her groveling brother, brashly grabbing him by the back of his jacket and making her way to drag and pull him up the flight of stairs.

"Dammit," she growled, huffing as she dragged her brother one step at a time. "You best get your ass up to that palace."

Prussia cried like a little boy who had just dropped his ice cream cone. "_Nein!_ I wanna go home! Drink until I vomit my heart out!" he sobbed some more.

"You can drink all you want here and vomit out all your sorrow when we get home," she cynically suggested with much exasperation. Italy trailed the siblings with much caution, keeping his distance in case an outburst sends one of the two if not both crashing down the steps…

To Germany's relief, Prussia managed to regain his composure once they had neared the palace doors, determined to maintain his powerful and venerable appearance—although he had done a great amount of groveling on majority of the way. Once he was able to walk inside the entrance hall on his own, Germany retreated back to Italy's right-hand side, allowing him to take her by the arm. After taking their first few steps into the entrance hall, they were immediately greeted by numerous officers and political heads that Germany herself is familiar with. She offered her jacket and pocketbook to the coat attendant before following Prussia through the main foyer. Of course, they came to greet Prussia first, offering their condolences as well as their high hopes for Ludwig's return. Her brother was not one to politely introduce his accompanying guests, although Germany didn't mind so much, as she preferred for Italy to be ignored, because it meant that nobody would notice her, either. Some still ended up approaching the couple, either recognizing that one ally of theirs that never really does anything or his beautiful date.

"_Guten Tag, Italien_," one general greeted. Italy cheerfully replied with a salute and a peppier-than-it-should-be reply of "_Guten Tag_~" Inevitably, the general would then avert his attention to Germany by his side. "May I make acquaintance with this beautiful lady you are escorting?"

"Uhh, _si, si. _This is my darling Lucia," he answered with an excited grin stretched across his face. Germany had trained herself overtime to keep from wincing at Italy's use of endearing words directed towards her—more like she began accepting such affectionate words, but she couldn't help but wince lightly when the general took her hand and offered a light kiss upon it, with a greeting of "_Guten Tag, __Fräulein Lucia_," that was just as endearing. Germany could not go without a response—it would certainly be rude. She gulped a little to bury her anxiety and replied with a shy _"Guten Tag_,_ mein Herr_," and a slight curtsy. Austria had actually demanded that she learn the proper forms of ladylike behavior, so long as she remains female.

"If I may be so bold to say," he asked of Italy, "you have found yourself an exquisite ideal of German beauty."

She blushed madly, mostly out of anxiety, and had to completely turn away, resting a hand on her cheek as if to hide her blush. "Y-you flatter me, sir," she choked out.

The general chuckled lightly and continued, "Well, with all respect, it is wonderful that you are able to join us for today's gathering." Germany nodded in approval, Italy replying with his oblivious "Ve~" Much to her relief, the general then bade them an enjoyable afternoon with reasons of acquainting with other colleagues. The couple walked around, taking finger glasses of Champagne and finger foods from strolling waiters along the way. More guests would continue greeting the couple and taking extra interest with Italy's female companion, some of whom would ask more of her background, to which she would answer herself as "a relative of _Herr Prueßen_." The more endearing greetings she would get from her colleagues along the way, the more concerned she became of Italy's feelings towards the unwanted and unavoidable attention.

"Does it bother you?" she asked him quietly, leaning into him so that the matter would be theirs alone.

"Does what bother me?" he asked back, confusion written on his furrowed brow.

"_This,_" she made incomprehensible hand gestures, "all these these '_Guten Tag,_ _Fräulein_' and kisses on my hand." She took a quick and suspicious glance all around the room, as if every man in the hall was after her.

Italy shook his head with a carefree countenance. "They're just being polite. I don't see anything wrong with that." He playfully nudged her side. "There's no need to feel uncomfortable. So long as I'm escorting you, you should feel safe," he assured. She took his word with a comforted smile. It's nice to know he's not the jealous, insecure, or overly-suspicious type. It's also possible that he could just be too intimidated by the number of Germans in the room to even voice a single utterance of protest or disapproval, but the former reasoning seemed much more comforting. She slowly leaned in and placed an affectionate kiss on his cheek. "If you say so, then I should feel safe," she whispered in his ear. Italy responded to her affection by looping his arm around her waist, bringing her in closer.

Within an hour of their arrival, a call to gather at the neighboring Marble Hall was made with indications that lunch is ready to be served. All the guests strolled into the neighboring hall with much leisure, continuing their discussions of politics and other current events along the way. Upon entering the extravagantly decorated hall of marble and gold leaf, Germany looked all around the hall and along the dining table in search of her brother, who had run off since they first entered the palace. She found him seated in the middle of the dining table, a tall mug full of beer in his grip, as he conversed with a neighboring senator with much disinterest. She and Italy tentatively took seats beside Prussia, who turned to them with sunken eyes to introduce them to the neighboring senator.

"This," he directed toward his sister with lazy gestures, "is my cousin Lucia," he mumbled before taking a deep swig of beer. The senator offered Italy and Germany greetings much similar to everyone else's, and then turned to face another politician who was seated on his other side, probably out of realization that Prussia had absolutely no interest for anything or desire to converse with anyone at the moment.

Germany leaned into Prussia, "How are you doing?" she asked him sincerely. Prussia scoffed, "I'm not quite drunk yet, so I'm still a little depressed." She sighed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She then turned to Italy, "Don't you dare fall asleep during all this," she nagged him. "If you do, plan on walking back home."

"Ve…"

::::::::::::::::::::

With such a large variety of every German delicacy imaginable, it's no wonder Germany was already starting to feel stuffy and claustrophobic in a room full of elderly German politicians. She gripped Italy's arm and asked that they take a quick breather outside near the terraces. After Germany went to grab her jacket and just as they were heading out the nearby French doors in the Marble Hall, Prussia's sniveling pleas for the couple to stay with him indoors while he tried to prevent excruciatingly long conversations with all the elderly men that surrounded him had them cornered and desperately seeking a method of escape. Germany insisted that they would only be out for a moment to take in some fresh air, to which Prussia replied with a pitiful whine. It's a wonder to her how her brother managed to survive any discussion on politics without her presence. She knew full-well of how intelligent and tactful her older brother really is and assumed that he just felt like acting up, but that was beyond the point. Germany realized that it wasn't only the food, but also the amount of men that surrounded her that made her slightly nauseous. She needed to get out of that stuffy hall.

They walked out and into the open air, Germany's and Italy's hands laced together. She breathed in deeply and let it out with much satisfaction. It started seeming odd to her how she had accepted Prussia's offer to attend this luncheon with intentions of keeping up with her country's politics and plans for the war, only to feel caged and claustrophobic from it all. Was she still fearful? Weeks having passed and even _she_ felt that fear of being discovered seemed ridiculous. It must have been the throngs of men that surrounded her—she just couldn't get herself to relax around others anymore, no matter how hard she tried. Italy felt her tense lightly as he held onto her hand.

"Ve…What's wrong?"

She hesitantly shook her head, almost making her dishonesty obvious. "…It's nothing. I think I just ate too much, is all."

He looked at her with much concern. "Would you like to head back home? I'll make you hot tea~"

Germany was much tempted to take that offer, especially with such promises of hot tea relaxing her tense body, but—as much as she knew how miserable her brother may be acting about it—she really felt she and her brother needed to stay and catch up with the agenda or at least rekindle with some acquaintances. Besides, they've only one car to drive them back home—they have no other option but to all ride home together.

"We can't. We have to stay here until all has been said and done."

"Ve…"

She felt a weird wave of movements emanating from the boy beside her as she held his hand. Italy was fidgeting excessively, almost as if he were performing an odd dance—his torso swayed slightly, his feet stepping in an irregular beat, his thighs clenched together…

"Oh, _goodness_," she sighed incredulously upon realizing why Italy was fidgeting so much.

"Ve…veve…Germany," he looked up at her with a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"I don't understand why you hold it in for so long until you start feeling the need to dance ridiculously like that." She scratched her head in disbelief to Italy's childish ways. "Pay attention because if you get lost and soil your trousers, I'm leaving you here." She continued on with an annoyed sigh, "From the Marble Hall, go through the doors we first went through, make a left into the adjacent hallway, and keep going until you find a bust of Aristotle. The door on the right should be one of the bedrooms and there definitely should be a bathroom inside."

"Ve…" Italy was intimated by those instructions, but had no choice than to follow them to the best of his ability. He was in desperate need of that bathroom. He replied with a shaky salute, his other hand pressed between his thighs in efforts to keep his fluids in. "O-okay…nng…I'll be right back!" he yelled in assurance as he ran through the French doors and back into the palace, accidentally bumping into some officers on the way.

She crossed her arms and shook her head in incredulous wonder, walking over to the marble balustrades from where the marble deck overlooked the terraces they had previously walked through and much of the emerald greenery and myriad of fountains that made up the palace gardens. Although her knight in shining armor in the meantime was preoccupying himself with his lack of bladder control, the peaceful panorama of the palace gardens made her feel undeniably safe and worry free. From behind her, she could hear the dull drone of political chatter and the occasional sound of her brother's overpowering vocals, but ahead of her she heard nothing but the breeze and the sound of sparrows singing songs of spring. Despite the gift of nature that lay in her presence to behold, she could not help but ponder over what had been discussed earlier during and after their meal, the whole purpose of this pompous gathering. This war is really making way for itself as all her superiors had already been planning the invasion of the French. The idea itself ignited a longing for vengeance within Germany—a grand desire of retribution for the humiliation France had placed upon her and her people. It rekindled her desire to get back into action again, just to play out this plan for herself with much included satisfaction. She felt her hands on the balustrade tighten their grip at the idea of it all. There is no way they'd allow her into the army like this, which is why she suddenly felt the need to return to normal again.

At that very thought of returning to her manhood, she felt a rising conflict in her conscience. Although the desire for retribution burned strongly within her, another desire seemed to fight back. Her intentions of plowing France into the ground were so definitely honest, but the desire to go back into battle and into a life of constant warfare and hatred failed to strike her as desirable or even satisfactory. She still hadn't gotten used to the concept of free time or leisurely living, a life without worries, but she absolutely felt certain that having her brother, Japan, and occasionally Italy handle the warfare for her is a blessing meant to be appreciated. At the same time, she is also certain that letting herself fall into such a carefree state is making her weaker by the second, in mind, body, and spirit. Leisure made her weak. The decline of her overall physical strength obviously made her weak. The lack of all other tasks she should have been doing made her weak. Even love made her weak.

Love. That feeling that fills her stomach with butterflies. The same feeling that seems to pound against her knees with intentions of knocking her down to the ground. That same feeling also works to make a fiery furnace out of her features and beats her mind, her emotions, her heart into such a scrambled mess to the point where she could no longer comprehend anything or make any rational inferences. Love made her lose logic. Love made her lose strength. Love is making her weak.

She loves Italy. Italy is her weakness.

Her sudden realization of her love for Italy made her tense, her hand suddenly planting itself atop her chiffon blouse just above her heart. It was beating rapidly, just like Italy said it would upon this intense realization. It didn't make sense. Italy had always been the weak one. Now that he has a woman he vowed to love and to protect—at least while she remained a woman—he had discovered a newfound strength within him, all the while Germany is only left to surrender to him. How could the tables have turned on her like this? What more, how could her mind and her emotions have wandered off so far from a vengeful desire to destroy France all the way to this heart-wrenching, gut-twisting realization that she actually had fallen in love with someone—with her clumsy (and oh, so charming) ally, nonetheless?

Germany's heart was torn. The hand that held onto her blouse placed itself back upon the balustrades, her steady and conscious breathing indicating how much she attempted to make meaning out of the confusion she felt. It is one thing to realize and accept that she is in love with Italy, but then came another emotion that clashed completely with her love for him: hate. She hated this, too. She hated the idea of her rationality taking flight and leaving her behind. She hated how Italy could so easily make her surrender to his soft and warm touches. She hated the idea of how much she relished in his kisses and his dominating her. She absolutely hated how dependant and needy she has become of him, how weak and how foolishly she acted from just being around him, from the very _thought_ of him. It's of Germany's true nature to be independent, dominating, commandeering, logical and calculating—strong in mind, body, and spirit. The knowledge that her love for Italy is inverting her from the inside out was extremely troubling enough, but the very possibility of a one-sided love in which she would end up the only loser tore her apart. It was unfair to blame Italy for these intense feelings because she too is surely at fault for even allowing herself to be led on in this false relationship. Yet another reason against reverting to her male self again—if ever it happened miraculously, would Italy love him the same way? If he left him in the dust knowing that there would no longer be a Lucia, Germany would only have himself to blame for the searing pain of loss and misleading that'd be washing through him.

She took a quick glance over her shoulder, loosely examining the chattering crowds inside. It was uncertain how long it would take Italy to even get to the bathroom, if he could even find it. With that much of an inference, Germany decided to take the opportunity to wander off and take some time away from her so-called lover, even if it were only for a few minutes. Slowly she left the balustrades, only to find her way to another set of stairs leading back down in the gardens. She took slow and careful steps, her arms crossed and her shoulders hunched, not so much against the cold but in futile efforts to comfort herself of the intense confusion and scrambling of emotions. The further she strolled, the more the drone of conversations from within the palace faded. Eventually she found herself back down into the gardens, amidst mazes of green hedges and whistling trees. Nothing seemed to be running through her mind and she preferred it that way. She tried her best to prevent any subject from entering her thoughts, lest they may also somehow provoke further thoughts of that certain Italian boy. She paid no attention to her surroundings or time that zipped right past her. The whispers of leaves and branches and the pitter-patter of gentle fountains soothed her for a moment, but it wasn't quite enough. Her eyes fell on a neighboring fountain. Immediately, she was transported back to when the two of them excursed around Genoa in the hot afternoon. Italy pulled her by an aged fountain showered with cherubs where he spun her around much to her disapproval. "You're so beautiful," he whispered as he cupped her face and pulled her in to seal his lips with hers. The thought of his kisses alone made her lightheaded, so she decided to take a seat by the fountain. Her thoughts continued to run on its own playback—she had no idea how it happened, but his kiss distracted her enough to keep from noticing the way he gently leveled her back down onto the aged concrete by the fountain. She couldn't erase from her head how charming he looked as he hovered over her, the flustered look on her face beckoning an amiable chuckle, his hands continuing to run themselves through short strands of blonde. She couldn't comprehend the meaning behind his eyes. It only furthered her confusion.

"…What am I _doing_?" she groaned quietly to herself her eyes slowly closing, her hands rubbing at her face in efforts to will away the stress. As her body and mind were slowly making efforts to cool down, her lack of attention to her surroundings left her vulnerable to the unsuspecting man slowly approaching her hunched figure.

"Is everything alright, miss?"

Germany jumped, unaware of the man that had been looming over her as she sat by the fountain. She quickly stood, brushing at and smoothing off her clothing. "I-I'm fine, sir…" she replied with much embarrassment. However, once her head rose to greet the stranger, her blood then ran cold when she came across another dreadfully familiar face…

::::::::::::::::::::

"Ve…Where did I make that right again?"

Italy did try to follow Germany's directions and instructions with the best of his ability—after all, his dignity depended on it—and successfully made it to a bathroom amidst the many rooms of the palace. However, it's completely another mission for the poor boy to try finding his way back. Italy managed to return to the same bust of Aristotle that Germany had told him about, but somehow ended up making a wrong turn into a different hallway. As he tried making his way back, he came across yet another Aristotle bust that threw him off his course completely. He seemed hopelessly lost in Friedrich II's Rococo palace.

"Ve…Germany's going to get mad at me," he worried aloud, knowing full well that such an excess amount of time being used just to use a bathroom will make her impatient. Unbeknownst to him, Germany is going through some problems of her own—as he aimlessly roams through the palace hallways in efforts to find his way back, she remains under fire…

::::::::::::::::::::

"Are you sure, madam? You seem troubled—I couldn't help but feel concerned."

The fact that France stood in German territory (despite the French name given the royal grounds) was already suspicious enough, and yet he managed to make it seem like it was nothing unusual. Germany was choking on her words, extremely cautious of the fact that somehow France managed to sneak into the venue of a political gathering and extremely afraid of what he might already know or may just find out. Germany assured herself similarly to when she last conversed with Hungary, that France knew nothing and there is no way he would be able to make such inferences.

"No, sir…I-I just happened to—to have caught sight of a very large spider, and… (_'Don't be nervous—just keep calm…'_)…and being as I am arachnophobic, I…" She noticed the intense look being cast down upon her, making her swallow a lump in her throat. It almost seemed like he knew something… "I was given…quite a fright…"

France stood there calmly, intently gazing down at her. Germany's heart was racing—she couldn't tell what it was exactly that was running through his mind. She needed to make some sort of escape plan, and yet she really felt she needed to know what France was doing at the Sansoucci at such a time—the timing was too perfect to be pure coincidence. She cleared her throat.

"If I may ask, sir, what you are doing roaming palace grounds?" she calmly asked him, determined to materialize a confession out of him. "If I'm not mistaken, the palace should be closed off to the public today…"

France responded with a sincere smile. "Is that so? Because the kind guards outside the gardens permitted my entry with quite some ease," he explained with charming frivolity as he took her hand and kissed it, making Germany grimace inwardly—she tried extremely hard to keep from either gagging, yanking her hand away, jumping out of shock and disgust so conspicuously, or all together simultaneously. He introduced himself as if he and Germany had never met before. "I apologize for my lack of manners. My name is Francis—a privilege to be making acquaintance with a beautiful damsel such as yourself. May I get your name, madam?"

Another gulp. "L-Lucia," she replied quite shakily. "Lucia..." he repeated in a low whisper, a lazy look in his eyes. There was no way she could let the enemy slip through their borders the way he did—she needed to warn everybody else of his presence somehow. For all she could infer of him at the moment, France may as well be performing espionage against her. She needed an escape plan.

"I appreciate your concern, umm—Francis, but I really must take my leave. My escorts must be worrying about me." With an excuse made, she attempted to push past him and quickly make her escape back into the palace. But before she could even leave his vicinity, he briskly grabbed her arm, gently enough as he would with any new woman he had just met, yet firmly enough to assert his insistence of her stay.

"My dear, if you could only stay for a while longer," he kindly requested with a deceiving smile, "I would really appreciate for you, a local, to tour me around these beautiful gardens."

Germany tried to pry her arm away from his grasp without giving away the fact that she was really trying to make a hasty retreat. "I-I'm sorry, I really must take my leave," she insisted. Upon insisting her leave, she felt his grip tighten ever so slightly, his smile slowly fading into a darker, more serious look.

"…Were you planning on informing them of my presence?" he asked her in such a serious tone. With such a provocative question, Germany knew she had to keep her guard up; it seems he realized that they were both suspecting of each other. She intensified her gaze, her unyielding nature taking course. Just moments ago, she pondered over how delicious it would feel to finally have her way with him—now may as well be her one chance and her shining moment of satisfaction to do France in. But before she could even relish one bit in the thought, she had to leave his premises alive. She positioned her free arm, so that when the time called for action, she would be able to swiftly grab the pocket knife hidden inside her jacket.

"No, sir, I just need to make my way back before I miss out on dessert," she lied. "Now, if you would be so kind as to release me…" Germany tried once more to pry her arm away from his grip.

France left her with a pregnant pause as she continued to struggle against his ever tightening grip. He then let out a chuckle. "What a diligent way to serve the Fatherland, am I right?" he commented darkly. A devious grin suddenly formed along his face, causing Germany to tense in defense. Just when she was about to reach into her jacket to grab her pocket knife, he quickly jerked his hold on her so suddenly, twisted her arm against her back, and gripped her once free arm, making her gasp sharply in sudden pain as he paralyzed her.

"_Scheiße…_" she quietly cursed to herself, wincing at the feel of her arm being twisted. She had been caught like a mouse, unable to find a way of escape. At this point, she knew it had become dangerous. But what frightened her to the very bone were the words that registered in her mind when France leaned into her ear and whispered maliciously,

"…To think that you could ever let your guard down like this, Ludwig…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** chapter title translates to "danger." wohoho~ we're heading into dangerous waters here—it's gonna get pretty serious for the time being, but don't worry, we'll get back to lighthearted humor and fluff after a few chapters (: a little inside info, when i'm talking about "Danger" i don't just mean France's sudden appearance, but also Germany's growing feelings for Italy—from what it looks like at the moment, they're certainly dangerous to her being, but who knows what these feelings will do to her/him. love can be a dangerous thing, too y'know :O

i don't remember if i mentioned the fic title translation here, but it translates to "Sausages and Spaghetti" in German. for anyone who hasn't seen "Eat, Pray, Love" (GREAT MOVIE BTW), when Julia Roberts' character makes it to Italy and rents a room, the landlord—who's this elder Italian lady—was lecturing her about house rules and taking boys home, criticizing that "All you American girls … want_ pasta_ and _sausage_." XD i just thought it was a really funny innuendo to use, especially since it's a great reference to Italy's and Germany's relationship, the switching of genders, weird innuendos_, blah, blah_...i just felt like sharing this little insider since it's what they made for dinner in this chapter :D

also, some may have noticed, some probably not as much, but this fic is meant to be loosely set around WWII. i don't get into specifics because 1) they're unnecessary, and 2) i don't wanna get into any debates about historical inaccuracies—i don't think i'll be that confident in my historical know-hows until i finish my upper division classes :P how can you tell it's still WWII? well, for one, they're still considered the Axis (i remember mentioning that). and another, as you just read in this chapter, Germany's just getting ready to invade France, so we're pretty early into the war at this point. oh, and the outfit Germany wore in this chapter—i was very meticulous in creating the perfect example of high-end late-30's fashion. you guys have no idea how long it took me to come up with this outfit "OTL but i'm very satisfied with the outcome. :D if only someone could sketch it out for me so i could get a visual confirmation of how good it must look—i might bug my sister for it one day :P funny story actually—when i was in desperate need for inspiration (i wasn't exactly a fashion expert, especially when it came to the 30's and 40's), i went on the GUCCI website to look at the "ready to wear" section in hopes of finding some clues. vintage has been running full-force in the fashion world lately, so i was lucky enough to find the kind of 1930's ladies' suit i was hoping to come up with :D THANK YOU GUCCI. (;w;)

DEAR GOD, I TALK SO MUCH. anyway, i'm terribly sorry if this update took forever, but i _did_ warn you guys about the busy days ahead of me. i just got home from a cruise a week ago, and they didn't have wi-fi on board, so there wasn't much i could do while i was away. and now i'm in the middle of moving in a new home and working a full-time summer job sooo...i'm just a busy busy busy bee "OTL i haven't finished the chapter i was working on since the last update, and i think i'm going to redraft 80% of chapter 9, so i might just be slightly delayed on updates :\ but i wanted to update ASAP since i got home just to assure you guys that i have not _died_ and neither have i given up on this story (LIKE HELL I WILL) :D

please continue with the love! it's my primary source of power! (^3^)~


	9. Schmutzig

**Chapter 9 - Schmutzig**

"Ve…Ve…Ve…I'm so lost…"

Although it didn't take Italy very long to find the bathroom, it's somehow taking him twenty minutes to try and find his way back. He ended up in yet another hallway and resorted to peeking into every door he came across in hopes of magically transporting back into the Marble Hall if he had opened the right door. There was no answer to how many extra turns he had made at each corner and to how far from his destination he had walked off, but miraculously, upon opening yet another door, Prussia emerged, zipping his fly on the way—Italy managed to find another bathroom and the almighty Prussia just happened to be taking a piss in it.

"Oh…What the hell, Italy? Haven't you heard of knocking?" he asked him with a slight hint of bitterness still left in his voice. Despite Prussia's cynical demeanor at the moment, Italy was only ecstatic that he had at least found someone who could certainly help him find his way back.

"Ve! Prussia!" he cried out in happiness, as he lunged towards him in an embrace, causing Prussia to stumble back into the bathroom and nearly fall over.

"D-Dammit, what the hell, man!" he cursed at him as he tried prying the Italian boy off of his shoulders, but Italy decided to release his hold soon enough.

"Ve…I'm sorry," he apologized, wiping away a happy tear, "I got so scared because this palace is so huge and I ended up getting lost and I thought I was never going to find my way back out and just starve in a hallway and—"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Prussia sighed, looping an arm around Italy's shoulders as he led him to the right turns and corners. He himself enjoyed Italy's company, so he took advantage of this time with him to allow his melancholy to simmer down a little more as he walked him through hallways that never cease reminding him of Old Fritz. "The palace can be a little intimidating, so I'll let you in on a walkthrough of this grand piece of architecture."

"Ve…I hope Germany's not mad that I left her alone for so long," Italy whispered more to himself in concern.

::::::::::::::::::::

"I…" She choked on her words. Germany was in a great state of disbelief and confusion. There's no way he knows about it—it just doesn't seem possible… "I don't understand what you're say—ah!" She tried making herself sound as convincing as possible, that she is nothing more than an innocent bystander in the gardens that France happened to come upon, but the way he twisted her arm even further only meant that he wasn't convinced one bit. He wasn't showing any mercy, and she bit back each oncoming cry of pain through clenched teeth as her arm felt close to dislocating.

"Don't give me that bullshit, _mon __chéri_. I know all about it," he whispered. She shook her head rapidly in disbelief—how could he possibly have known? Numerous theories were running frantic in her mind. Did someone spill? Had she done something to give it away? Was France the one responsible for all this? Too many questions left unanswered, she couldn't concentrate on any other way to escape his painful grip. Germany had her back to him, so she couldn't tell what the rapid movements from behind her meant, but she felt her arms immediately being bound tightly behind her back, inhibiting her movement. He even made sure to position his legs into hers in such a way that completely prevents her from kicking into him if ever she even thought of doing so—and she would happily do so if she could. As he tied her up, she continued to struggle, yet was still unable to break free. France suddenly gripped her sides as he loomed in from behind her, his face uncomfortably close to hers.

"Oh yeah," he reaffirmed with a small nod. "I know it's you." Germany felt her fists tighten from behind her, her face straining and her teeth gritting in a countenance of frustration, disbelief, anger, humiliation...simply put, she's in distress. She tensed even more—if that was even possible—when she felt his hands smoothly and slowly skimming from her waist and up across her ribs, purposely palming her chest on the way, making her growl in great disapproval. She could see him smirking from the corner of her eye as his hand slowly and deliberately travelled over her right breast—oh, how she really wanted to beat him to a pulp at the moment. After spending an excessive amount of time travelling over her chest, his hand reached one of her lapels, single-handedly unpinning her bejeweled iron cross.

"You're probably wondering how I know all about your little secret, aren't you?" he mockingly asked her as he successfully unpinned her iron cross and disrespectfully chucked it into the fountain right beside them, just to tick her off. At such a despicable act, she growled even louder and put up an even more ferocious fight against his grip. France responded to her struggles by harshly gripping her cheeks with that same offending hand, forcing her to face him. "You know," he continued on with a sigh as if he were confronting an everyday subject, "at first I didn't believe it when I heard it coming from England's mouth."

'_England…?'_ she thought in deep shock as she continued to struggle.

"I caught him and his weird cult chanting loudly in his basement and there was what looked to be a cute little doll of you hanging over a boiling cauldron of weird liquids." He chuckled a little. "It was quite funny, actually…Anyway, when I asked him what the hell he was trying to play, he told me that he had 'successfully cursed Germany' or something like that," he mocked England with a pitiful British accent. "See, here I thought, 'Hey, the fool's crazy, what are you going to do…' But then, news had reached my ears that Germany had gone missing in Africa, and I realized, that must have been one hell of a curse England had placed upon you. I never thought it could get any better than that, but apparently it can…and in the most _wonderful _and _interesting_ of ways, it looks like…" He then proceeded to nuzzle her hair, making her cringe in disapproval. The way France continued rambling on his story and her situation like it was another everyday occurrence just made Germany's blood boil.

"Just when I thought my life couldn't be any more blessed, suddenly, this interesting rumor began spreading all over town, that Italy had gotten himself a beautiful German girlfriend. I thought that particular rumor was quite peculiar—I found it to be even more peculiar when it turned out to be true. Most people probably didn't notice, but I found it curious how when Germany had gone missing, Italy suddenly got himself a German girlfriend that happened to look a lot like that missing man. At first I only thought it was just an odd coincidence. I'm sure some others did, too…"

His grip on her face tightened as he further forced her to look him straight in the eye. She received an insidious stare from the Frenchman as he snickered. "You two are so preoccupied with each other that you never even realized England and I have been on your tails all this time."

At those words, Germany just froze altogether, shock and disbelief written in her eyes. "You don't even know how much was revealed to us whenever we got the two of you alone. Italy's always going about 'Germany this,' and 'Germany that,' and 'Germany, you're so cute~' It was too easy."

He was definitely mocking her and it struck her deep. How could she have let her guard down so far? "Ah~" he sighed, "I wish you could see how happy England was when he realized he had successfully 'cursed' you. He was supposed to be here to help me do you in, but I'm glad he got stationed somewhere else in the meantime." France let go of her face, and leaned into her ear. "With England out of the picture, now it's more…personal," he whispered breathily. She swallowed a large lump in her throat—she sensed lust in those words. "I don't think you understand how ecstatic I am," he continued, his voice low and husky, "to finally have myself a ravishing German beauty."

Before she could even properly react, France suddenly shoved her down onto the stone fountain she had been sitting on earlier, feeling her shoulder and her back bruise immediately upon impact. She wasn't even given enough time to anticipate his next move as he swiftly caged her on both sides with his arms and pinned her from the waist down, hovering over her like a predator that just caught its prey. There was a vile smirk spread across his face. "You made one fine woman, _Allemagne_," he breathed out as his eyes undressed her bound and meticulously covered figure. Panic rose rapidly within her. She's never felt this distressed, even in the worst of one-on-one situations she has been in. There was no time for her to react properly when his eyes fell back on hers and his lips came crashing down on her own in a forceful and bruising kiss. There was just about no passion and absolutely no tenderness from this kiss—it was evident that France's only goal that moment was to dominate her in every way. A mix of a whimper and a groan of pain tore from her throat as France devoured her, taking in every little cry and struggle of protest she tried making. She made an attempt to bite off his tongue when he shoved it into her mouth, but he pulled away before she even had the chance, leaving her coughing and gasping for air. France grabbed her chin, making her look him in the eye. "Before I even give you the chance to disgrace me," he started off darkly before redirecting her head to slowly drag his tongue along the shell of her ear, making her shiver in pure disgust, "I'd like a chance to disgrace you, myself." He brought her eyes back to his, gazing down on her in pure mockery and enjoyment.

Germany's heart rate quickened, a mix of anger and panic running through her veins. "Haven't you disgraced me enough?" she bitterly growled at him. At such a question, France released her chin only to rub his own in thought. He pouted at the thought, but then snickered and simply shrugged when he conjured up an answer for the poor girl, "I probably have, but I'm not quite satisfied just yet."

The smirk plastered on his face just irritated her immensely. There's no way she could allow him to do such despicable things to her—her pride wouldn't allow it. There was not much she could do given the situation—her arms were bound from behind, her legs were pinned down by half of France's weight, and her strength just wasn't quite enough to simply throw the offending man off of her body. She figured the best she could do now is trust in her high-pitched vocals to rescue her. As soon as France noticed her chest heaving, her lungs taking in as much air as they could hold, he immediately shoved his hand over her mouth, effectively muffling what could've been a shrill cry of distress.

"I don't want to have to gag you, _Allemagne_," he whispered as she continued to struggle against that hand that prevented one of her only chances of rescue. "I'd rather hear your beautiful voice in ecstasy while my hands roam freely across your body," A lecherous smile slowly formed across his features. "Besides," he casually continued, Germany still struggling against that offensive hand, "You've wandered off far enough—I don't think those geezers, your oblivious brother, or your airhead of a boyfriend would be able to hear you from this distance." He could feel vibrations reverberating onto his hand as she growled through his palm.

He slowly released her face, allowing her to breathe a little more easily. "Now will you behave?"

Another feral growl reverberated from deep within Germany's throat. Immediately after he had released her, she gave her cry of distress a second shot, which was also an unsuccessful attempt as France had expected just as much from her. He shoved his hand back over her mouth before she could even get a single decibel out of her system. France straddled her nonchalantly as she continued to struggle fiercely under his hold—she shook her head in every direction, her body writhed constantly in efforts of releasing herself from underneath his weight, and all the while she continued to scream through France's palm, resulting only in the resounding of pitiful and shrill muffles. France began scratching his head with his free hand, a look of slight exasperation forming on his face. "I see you're not going to stop struggling," he calmly concluded.

Germany stopped for a brief moment upon hearing his calm words and feeling his hand recoil its grip off of her face. Letting her vocals rest for that brief second proved to be a mistake when France swiftly struck her across her face. He gave her no time to register his abrupt and brutal actions. Unable to defend herself from his sudden blow, she immediately felt the stinging pain that only began to spread across one side of her face, but the state of stupor she was left in after being backhanded overpowered all pain she felt. Germany is never one to voice even a single squeak of pain or protest given all those times in the past he had been tortured, but such an unexpected attack had left her gasping for breath. Despite her incredulity towards the recent impact on her face, she willed herself to face him fully, a determined look spread across her features before spitting in his face as he leaned over her, causing him to recoil wordlessly.

"Try it again, bastard," she snarled.

He remained nonchalant over her un-ladylike and defiant actions as he pulled back and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief from inside one of his sleeves. He began wiping off his soiled face, all the while his calm gaze remained on the agitated girl beneath him.

"I know better than to strike a lady," he sighed, cleaning off his face. "Then again, you aren't really a lady. Same old Germany, unyielding to every method of torture…" he said to himself, shaking his head as he stuffed his handkerchief back into his sleeve.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Ve…Prussia!"

"Hmm? What is it this time?"

Italy seemed really frantic amidst conversing politicians, his head swinging in every direction in slight panic. "I—I can't find Germany!"

"Huh?" Although Prussia heard him correctly, he seemed more confused than worried. "What are you talking about? Did you 'lose' her or something?"

"Veee!" He seemed on the brink of tears. "I left her out on the deck there when I had to use the bathroom and now she's not there so I thought she'd be in here, but when she wasn't I looked all around outside and I still couldn't find her!" He threw himself at Prussia's feet, wallowing in repentance for what he considers the great sin of losing his precious little sister, successfully making a scene in the middle of the salon. "I'M SORRY!"

"_Gott_…" Prussia groaned as his palm met his forehead. With an exasperated sigh, he picked up the wallowing boy and brushed off his uniform, making efforts to disperse the curious crowd that had gathered around them. "Alright, alright, I'll help you look for the tightwad. Yeesh…"

Italy was wiping his face, trying his best to calm down and prevent himself from suffering another unnecessary panic attack. "I don't see why you're so worried—she's probably just somewhere in the garden walking around like a loner…"

::::::::::::::::::::

She could feel it. The dusting of red and purple was just beginning to form on her right cheek, but she didn't let that faze her. She held her unyielding glare towards the man above her, tensing greatly when his hands reached for her face another time. Although his grip was gentler than earlier, she continued growling and struggling against him. Germany could make out a somewhat remorseful countenance painted on France's face as he tried keeping her still, tracing the ever-growing bruise with his thumb. She flinched when she noticed him leaning in further, anticipating his next move, but was slightly caught in surprise when she felt him skimming his lips along the injured side of her face, planting soft kisses as if in apology—even the tiniest bit of pressure he placed on her cheek still made her cringe slightly from the stinging pain. Despite the apologetic affection she was receiving from him, she still found him as revolting as before, and it was definitely not his place to shower her with any sort of affection. That was someone else's job…She had to escape France immediately, before he got the chance to do anything worse.

"Don't…" she breathed quietly. Although her voice was low and soft, France still managed to catch it.

He slightly pulled away from her. "What was that, _mon __chéri_?"

She gritted her teeth, repeating in a low growl, "_Don't touch me_." She swung her head away from his grip. Since France only held her face so gently, she was able to shake from his grasp for once. He didn't make much of an effort to keep his hold on her, but only sighed when she tried resisting again. He expected just as much from Germany, but France was also confident that there is only so much effort she could make against his oncoming plans for her.

Hands reached out to her again, starting off at the juncture between her neck and her shoulders, gently yet firmly patting its way down. She swung her head his direction after feeling the motions of his hands working their way down. She began squirming in objection. "Wha…What are you—I told you not to touch me!"

France merely shook his head. "I don't think you're quite in the position to call the shots, my dear," he slyly replied as he yanked open her jacket and began reaching into it, gradually patting her chiffon-draped chest down to her waist. She squirmed even more at the feel of unwanted hands on her assets.

"You obviously can't do much considering the position you're in, but I'm just curious to see if you've been hiding something lethal in this beautiful bodice of yours," he told her whimsically, smirk still in place. His hands were feeling along her jacket, inevitably coming across the hidden pocket that held her only weapon.

"Oh, hello~ What do we have here?" France took out the pocket knife, playing around with it as he swung the blade back and forth along its hinges. "And just what were you planning on doing with this knife, hmm?"

He dragged one flat side of the blade along her bruised cheek down to the underside of her chin, the feel of cold metal making her tense. France took the knife and left her chin, only to drag the point down her neck and across her blouse all the way down to her stomach where her skirt hugged her waist. Although he only held the knife against her skin with enough distance that the point could do no damage, his lethal positioning of it and the way he had it against her stomach left Germany on edge as adrenaline ran through her—one jerk of the wrist and he would be tearing at her insides, and she would be so helpless as to lift a single finger to prevent it. However, it wasn't quite her insides that he planned on tearing apart. France carefully positioned the knife and, with a swift jerk of his arm, swung it upward without making any contact with the fair skin underneath. Germany felt her eyes squeeze shut at his sudden movements, afraid that he had just done her in right then and there. But she felt no pain, she felt no blood spilling—all she felt was the breeze planting goosebumps from her stomach all the way to her breastbone. She cracked open one eye at a time, casting her eyes down in horror to see that France had torn open her chiffon blouse with her pocket knife, exposing gracious amounts of milky skin and her lacy black bra. From where she lay on her back, she gazed at her nearly exposed front, a deep shade of red spreading waves and waves across her face all the way down to her neck, further deepening the hue of the bruise on her injured cheek. She lifted her eyes briefly at France, who had placed the pocket knife back into its hinges and into his own pocket, and caught sight of the voracity behind his eyes from where he straddled her waist, the way he hungrily eyed her exposed skin as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. She felt her eyes squeeze back shut as she turned her head away from him—the humiliation was overwhelming.

"_Mon __chéri_," he whispered, crouching further backward enough so that his face met with her stomach, "don't turn away. I'm not quite done yet." France planted lewd, wet kisses all across her exposed stomach, making her whimper against her will, more at the fact that he was doing such disgusting things to her than the feel of wetness against her skin. Having emitted such noises in response to his touches made her feel extremely pathetic. She shook her head rapidly, trying to muster the strength to push him off, but somehow she couldn't find enough strength within herself.

'_Why? Why can't I move right now?_' she asked herself despairingly as his lips continued moving against her, all the while his hands worked their way across her restrained body, further spreading her legs on the way as they continued from beneath her skirt and up across what felt like kilometers of suede.

"No!" she yelled in great protest, her head still shaking from side to side. France slowly shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he noticed her boots reaching past her knees.

"My dear, with a skirt this long and boots this high up your legs, there's no way you can pull something lethal out very quickly," he decided. Despite the fact that he deemed no weaponry hidden below her waist, his hands continued running upwards, bunching her skirt past her boots until he caught a glimpse of skin and lace. He then looked up at her blushing, flustered face, his eyes widened and his mouth stretched into a lewd grin.

"My, oh, my, a black lace set…" he commented, one hand letting go of her skirt to skim fingertips along the small area of inner thigh between the hem of her boots and her crotch—he could feel her quivering underneath his fingertips. "You really want it, don't you?" he asked her huskily.

Her brow furrowed in confusion at his suggestive question, sincerely unsure of what "it" meant. "I—I don't know what…" He looked up and noticed her shake her head in slight confusion, making him sigh in disbelief.

"Of course you know what I'm talking about," he insisted. She continued giving him a confused look, her chest heaving in exasperation. The hand that was feeling along her inner thigh left to slap against his forehead. "_Mon Dieu_, are you really that much of a virgin, _Allemagne_?" he asked her with much incredulity, the provocative question making Germany snarl at his audacity, yet she couldn't hide the ever increasing humiliation he was successfully inflicting on her.

"You have no right to—"

"No, no, I have _every_ right to ridicule you as much as I please," he interrupted her, meanwhile bunching her skirt into her waist in such a way to prevent it from draping back down over her legs—some of it draped onto the fountain, leaving it soaked a portion of the way—successfully exposing her from the knees up. One hand gripped behind her right knee and bent her leg into an extremely suggestive position as he opened her up to him, very much against her will. "You see, my dear, women don't just wear intimates this frivolous, _especially_ if it's black lace." He stood back up to meet her confused and embarrassed blue eyes, his other hand on her waist slowly dragging upwards. "Tell me, my dear," he continued, his free hand gently gracing the sides of her breasts, "do you feel _sexy_?"

There was a large lump in her throat. She couldn't get rid of it. She felt like she was about to choke, all her air supply being cut off. Without the ability to properly voice a response, she shook her head rapidly in total disagreement—or at least that's what she wanted to see it as.

"_Oh_? Is that so? Because women don't wear black like this, unless…" He paused to make sure his gaze was planted firmly onto hers. "…Unless she wants it to be seen, at least."

Her chest continued heaving, a sickened look in her eyes. "Tell me, _mon __chéri_, who it was that bought you this," he softly insisted from her, loosening and lowering one of her bra straps off her shoulder. She quickly turned away, her face burning hot, but he didn't let her. France grabbed her chin again, forcing her to face him properly. "Tell me," he demanded a second time, the other hand releasing her leg to take the pocket knife out once more, threateningly pressing the blade against her pulse. With the blade against her vital area like that, it was foolish not to respond to his demands, but her pride wouldn't allow her any more humiliation.

"Like I'm obliged to tell you anything, you fucker," she whispered through gritted teeth, determined to hold on to every ounce of dignity that France had yet to rip away.

Eyes narrowed at her persisting defiance as the hand holding the knife slowly rose from her pulse to her left cheek, initiating in a slow drag downwards that gradually sliced fair skin open on the way. She gasped audibly, her eyes screwed shut as she felt her delicate skin being sliced open, blood trickling down her cheeks to her hair. Although the cut itself was shallow, it left a messy trail of scarlet, which France happily proceeded to lap up with his tongue. His literal bloodlust made Germany wonder incredulously as to why _she_ managed to build up a reputation as a merciless sadist when France was, in the meantime, shamelessly enjoying the metallic taste of her blood. This was a side of him that she's never witnessed before, this lascivious bloodlust of his, and it certainly left her aghast. Germany began wondering if she had underestimated any violent nature he had in him all this time. Still, she remained certain that France is and always has been a sort of coward.

"You've always been a bluff," she scoffed at him, quickly recovering from the slight scare of that knife cutting shallowly into her skin. He chuckled against her bloodied cheek.

"That's not something I can disagree with," he replied humorously as he pulled back a short distance, his face just a couple of inches away from hers. He stared down at her and she glared back at him, persistence ablaze behind her blue irises. France smiled sweetly at her. "I guess there's no need to threaten an answer out of you since it's so obvious—I just wanted to get you riled up, that's all," he teased her.

It's true that Italy was the one who suggested this particular frivolous set, and although she kept it with much appreciation, she was confident that he had no such licentious intentions upon buying said set as France probably would have. "It's not like that…" she quietly insisted, although the claim itself felt very weak since she herself knew how deeply she felt for him.

"Of course it is," he insisted. "You can deny it all you want, but I know you want him like _that_."

"_Shut up…_" she growled, her jaw clenching painfully. Her ears felt hot…

France leaned into the crook of her neck, planting more wet kisses along her skin as he lowered her other bra strap much against her protests. "Don't tell me you've lost the will to fight back," he teased her, one hand kneading at her breast. The churning in her stomach increased tenfold—she might just vomit at the spot. The humiliation was too much to handle in one sitting. Her body was betraying her every command, further losing control at every single one of France's vile touches. "If you want," he continued as one hand dragged back down below her waist, "you can picture Italy all you want while I'm working on you. Besides…" She gasped sharply, her eyes widening to the limit when she felt his palm glide along her crotch, feeling the lace dampen after every passing second. He lowered himself down to place his heaving chest in contact with her own nearly exposed chest, deliberately breathing heavily in her ear, "I don't think you're body can handle any more teasing. You're already getting so wet…"

That offensive hand of his showed her no mercy as it began grinding it into her, causing her thighs to quiver and her breathing to stifle. His other hand returned to lift at her leg, bending it back into a vulnerable and suggestive position. He leaned into her ear, "My hands work magic like no other, but I know that it's Italy you want. Pretend it's him touching you right now. Pretend it's him who's making you feel this way..."

"Stop it…" she growled weakly, her body losing itself to carnal desire. Her eyes were squeezed shut. She couldn't get them to open—the last thing she wanted to see was the lecherous smirk on France's face, the voracity behind his eyes, and the movements of his hands pleasuring her against her will. She refused to look at him. She refused to believe that he was doing such things to her body at the moment, but the shivers running through her made it very difficult to believe otherwise. She refused to imagine Italy being the one pressed up against her heated body, finding the fantasy to be tasteless and degrading of her, but she didn't even want to _believe_ that it was France laying his dirty hands on her at that very moment. Her panties were soaked. France's palm continued grinding into her. "_S-stop!_" she cried out in half a breathless moan, her breathing suddenly resorting to panting.

"_Allemagne_…_Voulez-vous_?" he breathed hotly in her ear, replacing his offensive hand with his hips as he initiated a slow grind. She could feel his erection just starting to form as he ground his hips against hers, causing a small gag to emit from her throat.

"_N-Nein_!" she yelled back, her stomach churning sickeningly at the feel of his erection against her.

France's smirk widened as he leaned into her ear, his fingers hooking onto her panties, ready to yank them off her legs on a whim. "I'm going to break you."

"STOP!" she cried out, her plea piercing through mild northern skies.

Just when France was ready to take her, a familiar voice weakly interrupted him from a distance beside the fountain where they lay.

"Big brother France…What are you…?"

France turned his head to find Italy standing just by a corner of hedge, his maroon eyes aghast and wide open.

"Agh…" he groaned while straightening up, his palm meeting his forehead. "Caught like a rat," he commented quietly to himself as he sat up and tried hiding the inevitably formed arousal under his white shirt. Once France had lifted himself off of Germany, Italy had caught side of the poor damsel—her clothes were torn, her skin obscenely exposed, her face displaying signs of abuse and disrespect. Italy was nothing short of horrified at the sight. Although her eyes were closed, a wave of relief spread through her upon hearing such a familiar voice—the voice that she, just a while ago, had been avoiding for some reason.

"Italy …" she called out to him in great relief.

France stood up and got off of Germany, placing his hands along his hips as if he hadn't done anything wrong. "Ah, my…you know, Italy, I think you sexually deprive this poor woman of her desires. I was _that _close to fulfilling her greatest fantasies 'til you came along and interrupted our session."

She just couldn't take any of it anymore—France's lewd remarks were the final trigger. His lifting his weight off of her became his own mistake as Germany took the initiative to kick vengefully behind his knees and send him crashing down with a surprised wail into the fountain. The splash that resulted from his fall left Germany wet in other places, making her shiver in the cold weather, but she was nonetheless extremely satisfied for the time being. He quickly sat up, gasping out of the water as he pushed his hair out of his face. There was no longer any use in hiding his hard-on beneath his white shirt as the soaked state of his clothing only left it all the more obvious. _"Sacrebleu!_" he yelled in incredulity and flabbergast, carefully trying to bring himself back on his feet.

"I hate how it takes this much and this long to get you to shut that mouth of yours," she commented weakly, but with much relief. All the while, she tried to wiggle out of her bonds somehow, but was once again caught in surprise when France quickly assaulted her a second time, briskly grabbing her by the lapels and yanking her upright to meet him face to face, their noses practically touching. "Don't think I'm done with you just yet," he snarled. Her brow furrowed in agitation at France's persistence battling with her own. They continued glaring at each other, until France's eyes gradually fell. Germany once again felt his fingertips skimming from her collarbone and downwards, his eyes following the trail as one hand tried another attempt at exposing her completely—even after being caught, he refused to stop.

"Wha—No! J-just STOP!" she yelled, squirming and squeezing her eyes shut as his fingers found its way beneath her bra.

All the while she struggled and kept her eyes closed, she suddenly felt her jacket being released, causing her to stumble back lightly onto the cold stone. As she fell back, she heard what sounded like two hard objects colliding with each other, all followed by a loud groan of pain and another splash of water. Her eyes shot open and found Italy right beside her in a peculiar position: his back hunched and his arm swung over his shoulder. France, on the other hand, looked to have fallen back into the fountain, his hand over his jaw. _'Did he just…_?'

"AGH," France groaned, rubbing his bruised jaw to see if it was broken or dislocated. It might have been fractured. "Did you—agh," he began making incredulous and incomprehensible noises. "Did you just …_punch_ me in the face?"

After witnessing France's state of incredulity, Italy suddenly cringed with a whining "Ve!" as he rubbed his right knuckles, the same fist that had done France some justice. Germany was left astounded—never has she witnessed Italy take physical action against an enemy that way. She totally regretted having kept her eyes closed because only God knows when a moment like this could ever happen again with Italy. After a brief moment of soothing his sore knuckles, Italy immediately began unbuttoning his military coat and crouched beside Germany. He proceeded to un-bunch and smooth out her skirt over her legs and prop her up from off the stone fountain. Upon first noticing her hands bound behind her back, he then took out the army knife Germany had given him some time ago and cut her unbound. Although she had very little strength left to move her arms, it was a great relief to finally have them freed of tension. They were most definitely sore, as was the rest of her body after having been under France's weight for that long. He moved on to covering her shoulders and chest with his own coat to allow her some of the dignity she managed to save. After having her completely covered again, his hands reached out to gently hold her battered face, his eyes laden with sorrow and horror as his thumbs traced over the dusting bruise of purplish-red on one cheek and the blood spread across from the cut on the other. She looked back at him with tired and humiliated eyes—with nothing left to say, she turned away from his grasp and his gaze, ashamed of all the danger she had allowed herself to fall into.

Meanwhile, from where he sat in the fountain, France merely watched Italy try his best to fix the damage he had inflicted upon his damsel, rubbing his bruised jaw all the while. It's one thing for him to inflict his vengeance upon Germany, but somehow he couldn't get himself to find satisfaction in hurting little Italy, and he knew he had hurt him with what he had done to his love. He gave off a melancholic sigh and was just about ready to stand up and walk away before the two even got the chance to beat France some more, but before he could even get on his feet and make his way out the garden, he felt a heavy and malice-laden aura emanating from a few feet ahead of him, followed by a dark, menacing voice,

"Francis…I'm going to _fucking kill you._"

The three of them looked up to find Prussia standing by the same corner where Italy made the turn and discovered his damsel in distress—his eyes were on fire, his fists were clenched knuckle-white, and he bore his teeth like a hungry wolf ready to rip apart the unsuspecting fawn. France should have known better than to prey on the younger sibling of the almighty Prussia without expecting some sort of painful and torturous retribution. At that realization, he knew just what he was in for, and immediately brought his hands up in fear and defense.

"N-Now, Prussia…It—It's not what you think…" he tried explaining as he slowly got on his feet, trying his best to lie his way out of trouble, but he knew it was hopeless, especially with his erection straining conspicuously against his wet clothing—the sudden realization brought him to assume the fig-leaf position, placing his hands over his pronounced arousal in efforts of concealing the outcome of his recent crimes. Much to his fortune, Prussia seemed slightly merciful for the time being.

"I'm giving you five seconds to get your ass out of my sight," he growled. "If you don't leave my sight in five seconds, I'm going to rip you apart piece by piece."

France blinked a few times in a brief daze, foolishly believing that this miraculous grant of mercy could lead him to some more benefits in the meantime. "Uh…so does that mean—"

"_EINS!_"

"Ah! Well then, _au revoir_, my good friend! Until the next time we meet like this," France halfheartedly bid him as he ran off at the speed of light to the next corner, successfully escaping the wrath of the almighty Prussia.

With the culprit finally gone, Prussia was able to walk off his anger and vengeance for a brief moment before approaching his abused little sister. Italy remained crouched in front of her, ever worried of the state she is in. Prussia knelt beside Italy before reaching out a hand to brush at Germany's disheveled fringe and cup her face. Her eyes were cast down, tired and ashamed. From beside him, he could hear Italy's worried "Ve" seep out. He gulped.

"Did he…?" Prussia asked her quietly and fearfully.

Germany responded by squeezing her eyes shut as if in pain, causing Prussia to tense in fear of what he had done to her, but much to his relief, she immediately shook her head. Despite the knowledge that France hadn't really gone that far, the two were still greatly bothered by how much damage he had done her and the dreadful possibilities that could have happened had they not found and rescued her in time. From the way her brow furrowed and twitched incessantly in anger and humiliation, Prussia was relieved to sense how much she had relentlessly endured to resist France's debauchery—he hadn't quite broken her by much. It was a relief to know that her resolve endured all the while.

Prussia lightly pushed Italy aside as he crouched beside his little sister and hooked his arms underneath her so that he could carefully and gently lift her up to safety. She definitely voiced some sort of protest, wiggling around slightly, but was much too exhausted to make a decent effort. "_Bruder_, I can walk on my own," she weakly insisted. "Not a chance," he mumbled as he motioned for Italy to follow. "I have to get you home quickly," he told her as she gave up on all efforts and shamefully scrunched up to the warmth and safety of her older brother's arms, clinging on tightly to Italy's coat wrapped about her quivering shoulders.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: could it be? did i really manage to update within a week? yatta ne~! :'D

chapter title = "Dirty" in German. i was about to title it "Black and Blue," but that just made it sound like Germany got beaten to a bloody pulp :T agh! this chapter was by far the most difficult to write, in my book. it went through about three redrafts, which is a lot considering i've only done so much as proofread the previous chapters. i think i had most trouble in how i wanted to portray fem!Germany in such a dire situation where her dignity and, in some cases, her life were at stake (although i never intended for France to fatally harm her anyway). at first, although i wrote such a steaming hot scene between them (it makes me blush to realize how i can write scenes like that sometimes ("o_o), but then again this fic is rated M, after all~), i made her so extremely weak and defenseless that she just became OOC 10x (although some of you did find that hot, as did i...i love a total uke Germany "OTL). and i feel that, had i left the chapter that way, i would've received some hate mail from active feminists for mistakenly promoting stereotypes of women being naturally vulnerable and dependent on male protection—that's definitely not the message i wanted to convey, especially when we're talking about hella butch fem!Germany here. it took me a bit, but eventually i brought back her normal nature (or at least most of it): persistent, unyielding, defiant, bitchy, all that shabang—because to fem!Germany, a bitch slap is nothing but a mosquito bite HURHURHUR. XD

since this has been, by far, my most challenging chapter, please don't hold back on your reviews! you have to tell me how you feel about it, especially in terms of characterization and all that good stuff! (;3;) the more you review, the more motivated i will be to update again within the next week :'D

THANK YOU AGAIN FOR ALL THE LOVE SO FAR! (*3*)~


	10. Drama

**Chapter 10 - Drama**

The ride back home was heavy and laden in silence. It was already hard enough for the three of them to make it back to the car without causing a commotion. Prussia had to excuse all three of them for their early leave while Italy just waited in the car and accompanied Germany, who sat silently from their departure on. Italy watched her the entire time—her frustration was still evident in her stone-solid countenance. With the hostility in the car being so heavy, even if none of it was directed towards anyone amongst the three of them, he was afraid to utter even a single squeak lest he may hit a nerve either in the bloodthirsty elder brother behind the wheel or the vengeful younger sister in the back seat beside him. He simply sat there, watching Germany carefully.

Meanwhile, Prussia could barely contain his own vengeance. He personally knew how often France causes mayhem, but to think that he even had the audacity to mess with him or his precious West in such a violating manner struck him as unfathomable and straight out intolerable—punishable by death in his book, even. Although his presence earlier in palace grounds is a clear threat to homeland security, Prussia deemed the crime much more personal and that France had specifically targeted his sister alone, so he chose to keep the situation personal. These were certainly very sensitive matters that needed to be dealt with privately—he just couldn't wait to stuff his fist into France's mouth and very likely into other unspeakable places. The way the Benz screeched and careened different directions, nearly missing extremely-likely hit-and-run victims, clearly reflected his burning hot resentment at the moment.

Despite her brother's reckless driving, Germany's mind remained rigid, focused intently on the previous events that have caused her a great amount of distress, and Italy saw it clearly: the way her brow twitched incessantly in frustration, the way her eyes stared cold and hard into an undetermined distance, the way her fist would clench and unclench itself violently to the point where he could clearly hear her white knuckles harshly cracking. The tiny trickle of blood that just began to run through her fingers as her fist continued clenching and her nails digging into soft skin failed to escape his constant gaze—he couldn't stand seeing her like this. His heart fluttered in a sudden burst of courage, risking having knuckles imprinted on his forehead or other bruises cast along his body all for the sake of comforting the one dearest to him. There's no use denying that Italy feared Germany quite a bit, especially in her times of stress and anger, but right now he'd much rather have her take it all out on him than just let her sit there and wallow in her pain all alone. Slowly, his hand reached for the slightly bloodied one on her lap, the slight contact making her flinch excessively—skin-on-skin contact did not feel very pleasant to her at the moment. She quickly looked up at him, the murderous intent behind her countenance refusing to take leave, and even then, Italy wasn't the slightest bit fazed. As he continued to hold his gaze and soothe her hardened knuckles, her features slowly softened, finally feeling the weight of his worry and concern for her.

"Please…just don't think about it anymore," he softly pleaded, his thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of her hand.

Crystal-blue eyes fell from his to the hand on her own for a moment before averting themselves back to the scenery of blurred trees and passers-by on her opposite shoulder. It touched her thoughts how quiet and serious Italy had been since he had first found her in distress, but the thought came as quickly as it went. It barely occurred to her how troubled he actually was, not only of her condition but also of the integrity behind his own word—he assured her safety, and yet he completely failed at providing her any. He never should have left her side, and because of trivial matters—being unable to control his bladder, his inability to retrace his own steps, and so much more of his clumsy vices—he was unable to protect her from the face of danger. Germany was right: it was she who was always in the side of danger. And even when Italy vowed to protect her in her current state, he could not hold on to this promise even if he actually tried. It hurt him dearly to know how much of a failure he could be, especially in the situations when he is most needed.

All the while Italy wallowed in his sorrow, Germany felt troubled with her own self, as well. She blamed it all on her own recklessness. If she hadn't let her feelings trouble her so much in the first place, she probably wouldn't have done something so mindless as to walk off alone to an area without witnesses. Her female form was not even played as a factor to France's surprise attack—all focus was placed on the weakening of her usual capabilities because of foolish little things that work to confuse her thoughts and feelings. 'That never should have happened,' is the mantra currently running through her head. She could no longer tolerate her ever-increasing vulnerability. It must be put to a stop. But when the source of all her vulnerability is right beside her, soothing her hands with his gentle touches, it almost seemed impossible. She truly was trying her best, however, to keep from blaming Italy for any of her misfortunes from earlier that day. She had always been the one to take the heat in his place anyway, so between the two of them it was nothing new.

When he heard her sigh bitterly, his hand gripped hers completely with as much comfort as it could possibly offer. Besides her shoulders hunching inwardly, she gave no other reaction—her eyes were glued to the window.

Despite the speed of Prussia's reckless driving, the ride home was undeniably a long one.

::::::::::::::::::::

The silence was beautiful. There was not a single stir or creak that echoed in any corner of the house. Austria sat in the deepest comfort he had felt in eons, in his right hand a romantic vignette, and in his left a steaming cup of coffee. He had just recently exhausted his own library and resorted to snooping through Germany's collection of romantic novels and vignettes, selecting one of a sublime yet melancholic love. The passion felt intense, but the denial felt in one side left in him a longing for some sort of compromise or resolution in the story. He avidly took in each word, taking only very small sips of his coffee so as not to detract himself further from this capricious love story developing right before his eyes. He had to admit, Germany has a great taste of reads, and he relished in every passing moment he had to himself and to this read, because he knew that at any moment, his nirvana could come crashing down in an instant, never to be recovered until the next decade or so.

Just as he came to turning the page and unveiling a new chapter, from behind him erupted noises of what sounded like a doorknob puncturing a wall followed by the raucous sound of a familiar demand, "Austria, get the fuck off the couch, now!"

The aristocrat sighed in much dismay, his eyebrow twitching in efforts to hold in all his aggravation and resentment at the loss of his valued peace and quiet. As he set his book and coffee down on the coffee table in front of him, he swore he could see shards of his nirvana scattered all over the hardwood floor—he knew better than to hold onto such delusions. Austria swiftly turned around to face the albino with much displeasure only to immediately catch sight of the battered blonde behind him, her eyes cast down on a nearby corner, refusing to face him. Upon sight of this, Austria slowly backed up a short distance, subconsciously offering his own seat, briefly forgetting the existence of an already empty loveseat opposite of him. Italy, who still held onto her hand with much apprehension, led her over to take a seat in Austria's previous spot, still laden in his warmth. As he slowly sat her down, Prussia walked his way around the sofa and paced around the coffee table, completely evading the aristocrat. His eyes were cast down and his breathing was heavy—his aggravation was easy to see and his bloodlust so plentiful that it was nearly palpable. Austria then averted his attention to the younger of the two Germans, his eyes immediately falling on her marred face. Her eyes refused to raise themselves, firmly planted on either the coffee table or a painting in the distance, but when she suddenly decided to meet his gaze without warning, Austria immediately redirected his gaze away from hers, trying his best to keep from lingering on her injuries. He cleared his throat as his voice finally broke through a barrier he didn't even realize was there.

"W-what happened?" he asked in a low and cautious voice, acknowledging the possible sensitivity of the situation. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Prussia stop abruptly in his tracks, slowly raising a hard fist against his forehead.

"France happened," he replied coarsely through gritted teeth. That alone proved to be enough of an explanation for the aristocrat. A sudden tornado of theories suddenly ran rampant through his mind of what that miscreant could have done to her that would subsequently lead to that gash and that bruise on her face. What more could possibly be hiding under Italy's coat resting over her shoulders, he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. Surprisingly, she seemed much calmer given the situation—either that or she was just ignoring it altogether to save herself from any more drama. All the while, Austria couldn't help but notice the worried Italian beside her. He hasn't spoken a single word since the three of them barged in. From behind him, he heard Prussia emit a soft and low growl as he approached the sofa in front of them. He crouched in front of his sister and hesitantly placed a hand on her knee. She refused to look at him.

"…West?" he called to her, voice low and cautious. She didn't respond.

He decided to continue anyway. "How are you doing right now?" His elder brother concerns are very easy to see.

Only silence followed his questions, but he definitely received a response or a reaction from her when she pursed her lips and inhaled sharply through her nose—the irritation was evident. Prussia could only nod his head in response as he, too, pursed his lips in frustration, not so much in Germany, but more in himself and in all previous events.

"I see…" he responded in a low voice.

He then abruptly stood up and stormed off towards the kitchen. From where the three of them remained, they heard the loud crashing noise of what sounded like the French doors leading to the backyard, followed momentarily by what sounded like the shrill sound of shattering glass and the ear-splitting boom of gunshots. Italy cringed in between gunshots, his grip on Germany's hand tightening after each blow. Austria simply sighed and shook his head at the ongoing clamor accompanied by occasional slurs of German curses.

"Ve…Is Prussia alright?" Italy asked quite fearfully, afraid that Prussia might as well sprint back inside with shotgun in hand and go completely postal on everyone.

"…_Bruder_ usually takes out his frustration by shooting at empty beer bottles in the air."

The sudden emergence of Germany's long-restrained voice slightly shocked both men as they immediately turned to enthusiastically offer their attention. Her eyes were focused on her vignette that Austria left on the table. After another moment of silence, Austria deemed it appropriate to speak his own mind in efforts to lighten the mood somehow.

"Frankly, it can get pretty disruptive," he smoothly added as he pinched the bridge of his nose in slight frustration. More silence followed. It began feeling a little too heavy after some moments. "I-I'm going to check on him and…see if he's alright," Austria mentioned hesitantly, no longer capable of tolerating the increasingly awkward and uncomfortable silence. Within seconds after he began walking away from them, they both heard the gentle squeak of the French doors closing.

The two of them were finally left alone. Italian eyes trailed after the aristocrat until they've finally lost sight of him through the distant kitchen doorway. The only one left to avert his attention to was the silent-as-death girl beside him. Crystal-blue eyes were still focused on the book lying innocently on the coffee table. Her soft and steady breathing reached his ears through the sea of silence. He gazed at her intently, heavily anticipating some sort of movement or reaction—words, grunts, sobs, anything—that seemed very unlikely at the moment. The hand on hers experimentally squeezed another time, trying to elicit some sort of reaction from her, and such proved successful when her eyes suddenly shot him a penetrating stare, her brow slightly furrowed. The sudden shot of blue orbs had Italy taken aback in surprise, but quickly recovered when he realized he had finally gotten her attention.

"G-Germany, are you—"

Before he even got a chance to finish his sentence, she pulled away from him without warning and simply walked away towards the same direction both her brother and Austria took on their way out. Italy was left in the sofa quite flabbergasted—as she walked further away from him without so much as a single word or a single glance over her shoulder, he reasoned with himself whether or not he should go after her. Although she made it slightly conspicuous that she wanted to be left alone, his concerns got the best of him by the second she walked through that kitchen walkway—it was never much of Italy's nature to make any form of reasoning, anyway. He cautiously trailed after her, finding his way through the arched walkway, as well. There in the kitchen, he found her leaning into the wide-open refrigerator, which seemed to swallow her entire torso. She emerged seconds later with a bottle of beer in her right hand and immediately caught sight of the Italian boy in the walkway. From where he stood, Italy wasn't very certain, but he could have sworn he saw her grimace slightly upon sight of him as she walked over to the breakfast table to take a seat. He felt a tiny pinch in his heart.

The rugged scraping of the chair's legs against the floor scraped against his own ear drums as he slowly approached Germany, who nonchalantly took her seat with beer bottle in hand, her back turned to him as if he weren't even in her presence. He stood right beside her chair and paused before making a move or voicing a single utterance. She popped open her bottle with a bottle opener and immediately began taking deep swigs. Not even a single glance fell on his direction.

"Germany…"

No response.

"Germany?"

Another swig of beer.

"Hey…Germany…"

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned her head the opposite direction.

"Ve…"

The moment his fingers lifted to lightly brush her fringe, he immediately noticed how she flinched and tightened her grip on the bottleneck. Her shoulders hunched slightly as if in defense. "Italy, why don't you go home?" she callously asked of him without even a single glance. The cold tone of her voice stung him. Italy immediately assumed that she must be angry that he failed to be there to protect her yet again, and it hurt him deeply. But deep inside was a tiny glimmer of persistence—he refused to leave her alone just yet. Maybe there was still a way for him to regain some ounce of her dependence on him, even though he felt very undeserving.

"I won't leave you alone, Germany," he firmly replied.

"You've left me alone countless of times—it doesn't make much of a difference," she retorted. Yet another blow to Italy's heart. Even _she_ thought that was a low blow, but Italy is only making it much harder for her to hold back her agitation. "You're always the first to desert, so just leave now while I'm still giving you the freedom," she repeated, putting up much more of an effort to keep from exploding in a fit of rage.

"Germany, please, I need you to know how sorry I am! I promise I'll never leave you—"

"No!" she interrupted him, all her efforts having burst into flames in just a single second. "It's better that you leave me alone. Even if you are here, it's the same anyways—you've never done me any benefit. And besides, I can't stand what you're doing to me. I can only take so much of this game…" She abruptly stood from her seat, pushing the chair back with ear-splitting scrapes against the floor. She then took a couple of steps away from him, her back still to him. There's no longer any use in holding back—it felt impossible to inhibit her emotions any longer.

"Tell me, Italy…" she started off slowly, Italy's ears immediately perking in undivided attention. "Why is it that you've only decided to treat me this way _after _I've become a woman?"

"V-Ve…?" She could hear the confusion in his voice.

"You…you've never kissed or held me the same way when I was still…the way I used to be…when I was still a man. You thought I wouldn't notice?" She said all this barely above a whisper—she couldn't hide the hurt lacing her voice. The emotion behind her voice seemed so new to Italy. He has never heard Germany speak this way before and it left him in a daze, yet he was still confused about how any of this had to do with what France had done to her earlier. He didn't realize that she just needed to release all this pent up frustration and confusion to him once and for all, because having them bottled up obviously only led her to even more trouble.

"I…I don't understand…I didn't even know—"

Her jaw clenched tightly. "Stop playing around!" she suddenly yelled at him, swiftly turning around to fully glare at him. "You're always fooling around! You don't even realize what kind of confusion you're causing me just from this game you're playing, do you? We were never meant to bring it this far!"

Italy retreated fearfully until he hit the breakfast table behind him. His mind couldn't format a response quickly enough and her words were registering much too slowly, but the hurt in her voice failed to escape him, and now he only longed to know how it is he had possibly hurt her. How he could even possibly commit such a crime, it never even occurred to him. She slowly shook her head, her eyes never leaving him.

"Stop pretending you care about whatever happens to me. I know you've always thought that Ludwig can handle anything in the face of danger, but when it's _Lucia_ who gets hurt, only then do you start caring."

There was absolutely no effort in concealing the bitterness behind her words as she immediately pushed past him and headed her way towards the staircase. Only then did her words finally register in his mind, and the very first course of action his mind initiated on is to prove to her how wrong she really is about him. There was no way he was about to let her walk away thinking that he had played her all this time—he might as well be breaking their pact in two if that were truly the case. Italy chased after her through the walkway before she could even make it to the steps, briskly grabbing her by the arm in an effort to pull her back and into his arms, so that he could show her how much he really cared. But she only struggled against him.

"Germany! You don't know what you're saying!" he desperately pleaded with her as she struggled against his hold. "You don't know how much I…I lov—"

His confession was cut short. Germany opened her eyes after a quick millisecond of blinking when she felt a dull throb along her right knuckles. In front of her, she saw Italy hunched over, both hands to his face. It took her quite a few moments to realize her own fist had just collided with Italy's jaw in an uncontrollable rage of defense and denial. She definitely couldn't tolerate his presence any longer, but she immediately resented having her frustration go so far as to even harm him. Sure, she had strangled him to near loss of consciousness or made him bleed from disciplinary blows a few times, but the malice and lack of rationale behind her previous actions left her in a great weight of shame. Yet she was still lost for words. Italy raised his head slightly, leaving one hand over his injured cheek—coincidentally, it was the same cheek Germany had rifle-butted him on when they first met. Tears only began swelling in his eyes.

What had she done?

"Maybe…" Italy suddenly started with a shaky and low voice, "Maybe if I hadn't wanted you to be with me so bad, we wouldn't be fighting right now, huh?"

Germany's breathing stopped for a split second. Her stomach suddenly hollowed.

"I'm sorry, Germany. I really do care for you, and I really wanted you, but…I was being so selfish to even make up excuses just to make you my girlfriend that I never even considered your feelings…I just—I just thought you'd still feel the same."

'_Y-You mean…_?_' _Her thoughts began running rampant.

"But I guess I was wrong." He choked on his words. "You're right…I've never been anything but a burden to you." He tried swallowing a sob. "I'll leave now."

With that, he pushed past her, hand still over his cheek, raising the other one to wipe away the tears that have only begun to fall. Germany stood frigid in her spot as she heard the front door slam behind her. She had no words whatsoever for the crime of assault she had just committed. What more, Germany realized that they've only come to yet another terrible misunderstanding that, this time, left _both _of their hearts broken. Slowly, her arms began to curl into her body, crossing themselves as her shoulders hunched in remorse. When her arms were brought together, she realized with inexplicable amounts of guilt that Italy's extravagant, royal blue military coat still sat protectively over her shoulders, shielding her from the shame underneath. That coat is giving her a real guilt trip at the moment. It didn't occur to Germany how much time had passed since Italy voluntarily left her when both Austria and Prussia came hurriedly inside, finding her by the staircase looking quite shocked.

"What the hell happened?" Prussia demanded much too seriously for his character.

There was hesitance emanating from Germany's countenance, but she slowly shook her head in response. "It was nothing. Italy…" She sighed deeply. "…Italy just left for the day."

Austria's brow furrowed—he suspected much more drama to have occurred. "But…we heard some screaming and the slam of the door and—"

"I said it was nothing," she repeated much more firmly, effectively silencing the aristocrat. She was surprised how they managed to even hear any of the commotion amidst Prussia's shooting frenzy, but that really wasn't of any importance at the moment. Prussia remained silent all the while, allowing her the space she needed to cool down—he knew there was much more that happened that she just didn't want to share at the moment.

She huffed harshly through her nose before proceeding up the stairs. "I need a shower. Don't disturb me in the meantime," she told the two of them. As she made her way to the second floor, Austria threw the albino an incredulous glare, to which he responded with a glance and the expectant raise of an eyebrow, casually placing his rifle on his shoulder.

"Well?" Austria asked importunately. "Will you not do anything about the situation? It seems to have gotten twice as bad and you're just standing there—"

"It didn't work a while ago, you saw that yourself," he interrupted him. "If I try to force anything out of her now, I'll only be making it worse." He shrugged nonchalantly. "When she's ready to talk, then we'll talk."

The way he reasoned his approach so smoothly left the aristocrat slightly stunned. Although he would never admit it aloud, especially in the egotistical albino's presence, Prussia's conduct as an elder brother does impress him in the very least. Such an impression, unsurprisingly, only lasted so long with Austria as Prussia discourteously pushes past him with coarse demands, "Now if you could get the hell out of my way so that I may make a phone call, that'd be freaking wonderful, thank you."

Austria glowered at him in response. What to do now that he had been left alone once again? He considered piecing his shards of nirvana back together as the book and the coffee that still sat on the coffee table beckoned to him, but the negative aura that had spread all over the house extinguished any desire he had left for relaxation. He decided to bake for the rest of the afternoon—considering Germany's mood, maybe such would prove useful to his free time.

::::::::::::::::::::

The gash on her face stung. Nonetheless, the feel of warm droplets of water massaging against her worn out skin overpowered the slight sting. Fragrant white suds ran gentle rivers all over her body as she let the free-falling water do the rest of the work for her. She leaned one hand on the tiled wall, her other hand running fingers through wet crops of blonde. Every moment or so, she would release either a satisfied sigh or a melancholic one. If she could, she would love to just lean on the wall and take a long nap in that shower, but she knew that was ridiculous and would be a complete waste of water on her part. She released her weight on one hand and leaned on her back instead, attempting to bring all her focus on the feel of water gently pattering against her skin. Even then, she couldn't keep some of her thoughts at bay.

'Men are crude. Men can be disgusting. Men are so confusing. Why are men this way?'

Those were the thoughts that ran through her mind as the shower tried to soothe away all her stress. Germany tried reasoning with herself why it is that men have to target her this way. France's voracious sexual appetite is insatiable, and it just happened to be of her misfortune that she grew breasts for him to snipe at. That man in the bar must have been sexually deprived—not to mention drunk—and she just happened to be there in his hopes that she would "entertain" him. And Italy…Italy can be very fickle with women. The presence of _any_ woman is enough to make him happy, and that conclusion alone stung Germany the most—she really believed she is no one special in his eyes. Why are men this way? She felt like they were all out to get her, out to use her and crush her from the inside. Her lungs released a dragged out sigh. How long have her eyes been closed? She wasn't exactly sure…

When she opened them again, through the constant spray of water where the shower curtain hung halfway open due to her unusual carelessness, she saw her own reflection in the mirror ahead of her. The intense gaze of her crystal-blue eyes captured her attention, and she stared herself down for a good minute, as if she were trying to read her own expression. In the meantime, she couldn't help but notice the way her skin and her hair beautifully glistened under the bathroom light. Lucia is a very beautiful woman, Germany had long ago accepted, but she never really had a chance to appreciate such beauty since she'd rather not remind herself of what she had become. But what was there to be ashamed of? She is clearly beautiful—a prize worth lusting after.

No other thoughts entered her mind as her eyes began slowly travelling on their own, trailing across the rest of herself as far as the mirror could reflect. The sight of her gash and bruise made her flinch slightly in disturbance, but once her eyes had fallen on her neck and collarbone, she relaxed a bit. The marks that France had left all over neckline initially irritated her, but it just as quickly became easy to ignore. Her hand lifted itself just above her throat and began skimming down, tracing over the reddish-purple marks all across her collarbone, down along her breastbone, reaching just above her stomach. Something about this scene suddenly felt familiar. Her eyes fell down a few centimeters, settling on her ample chest. They settled there for quite some time, suddenly gaining the urge to examine every little detail—the light bruises along milky skin from where France had laid his crude fingers, the depth of every curve, the pinkish-brown color of her nipples. Beyond her realization, her eyes began darkening in hunger for something. Hands began moving on their own.

Germany let his head loll back and heavy eyelids drift to a close as vivid images of a woman's comfort initiated its own playback in his bleary mind. Why is that only now has he come to realize the inviting softness of a woman's supple flesh? Virgin his body is, but such a fact never stopped his mind from exercising imagination. His burgeoning affection for Italy only had so much of an effect on his still existing attraction for sweet females. If only he was just as adept as Italy in this supposed art of cajolery and allurement, maybe then he could at least get a cute girl to brush her gentle fingers against his cheek in subtle endearment while Italy had his dozens of eager hands all around and over him. A woman's touch may just be enough to distract him from the Italian boy constantly reappearing to him in spontaneous visions and fantasies. How he needed a woman's comfort right this very moment…he needed to take his mind off all resentment and let these soft, delicate hands bring to him instead the temporary bliss of physical gratification. Beneath his fingertips was the marvelous feel of silky inner thigh, slippery with soapy suds and water—he didn't realize he could tease quite a bit. A low and lustful groan of anticipation escaped his throat with very little hindrance…

Eyes shot open. Her cheeks felt burning hot. She gasped sharply upon the sound of her wanton voice registering in her still fuzzy consciousness. What had she been doing just now? She glanced down along her wet body only to find her hands placed suggestively between her thighs—she hadn't really done anything just yet, but the fact that she was actually heading to that point hit her in a single mortifying blow. With a gulp, she slowly pulled her hands away from herself, bringing them near her face to examine them, back and front. Soon enough, a palm slammed itself against her forehead with a loud and wet slap. "_Christ_…" she hissed in much frustration. That same palm slowly slid down her face as if to wipe away any foolishness she had left in her system. When her hand had cleared her face and her view, she took another look back at the reflection ahead of her, no longer distracted by the temptations of her own body. She settled her gaze on her own eyes only, and has come to her senses once more: Germany is still a man inside, and—much to his contrition—he is just as dirty-minded a man as those other men who've tried violating his female body. Such a realization had left her in a state of stupor. How could he have possibly forgotten such a vital fact? Had he actually forgotten that he was born male? Lucia ought to slap him in the face this very moment. As absurd as the action would be, Germany subconsciously allowed her hand to slap him with a decent amount of force on one side of her face, just enough to bring him back to earth completely, although not enough to bring her head swinging the opposite direction. Her hand had met the bruised cheek, which only left it all the more throbbing. She has experienced much worse punishment than what she had just foolishly given herself, however.

But who was Germany fooling? Countless of women he had laid his eyes on and maybe a few more he had the fortune to touch—normally during his drunk fits—but none of them, not a single one of them, has ever left him in the state he is currently in, this state of longing and desperation for something more. He really did not need a woman's touch at the moment—hell, a woman's touch would do him no satisfaction whatsoever. It's that damn Italian boy he needed right now, that same one he so recently slugged in the jaw. What will these soft hands do for him? Absolutely nothing.

Who was he fooling? Lucia is still that same man named Ludwig, and Ludwig does not fancy the maiden across the street or the sweet brunette vendor in the fruit stand, but is madly and undeniably in love with a clumsy Italian boy named Feliciano. There's no purpose in making things more complicated than they already are for him.

Germany has had enough for one day. This shower obviously wasn't doing her much enlightenment—it only reminded her of all the things she had known all along.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **wawawawa I AM SO DEEPLY, INCREDIBLY, REMORSEFULLY SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG! (;A;) pleeeeaaase allow me to explain myself—remember after that last update (when was that...3 weeks ago? "OTL) when i said i'd try to update within a week's notice? in all honesty, i really did try, and i was on a roll...and then guess what happened!

in the middle of typing up this chapter—i got to the shower scene by then—i got up to show something funny to my sister, and then my laptop had all of a sudden met with the hardwood floor. i didn't just drop my laptop—it FLEW out of my hands! D8 and then it DIED. if only you guys knew how frantic i was that night, sobbing like crazy on the phone trying to get my dad to come home ASAP. (;~;)

so yeah, subsequently my hard drive got busted and i was unable to recover any of my files, including this once unfinished chapter 10. D: let's see...it took me for some reason _one whole week_ to replace my hard-drive, and about another to get this chapter going again b/c i basically had to start from scartch—not so much content-wise, but you know, it's kinda hard to come up w/ good flowing words ("-_-)

again, i am terribly sorry! other than how sorry i am, i also wanna mention a few things like i usually do. there's no need to translate that chapter title obviously, it's the same as in English lol. and this chapter was actually much longer originally, but i decided to cut it off here b/c 1) it's a good place to end the chapter and 2) i needed a smoother transition to the next chapter. so it didn't occur to me until last night that i had actually been working on chapter 11 already, thank goodness (: hopefully i can keep true to my one-week deadline unlike last time (this laptop should be superglued to my hands)—despite school having started only yesterday for me, i shall try my best~! especially since many of you are dying to have Prussia cut a bitch already *snicker*

thank you so much for putting up with me! 8'D


	11. Plausch

**Chapter 11 - Plausch**

There came a slow and cautious creak from behind her where she lay in her bed. Germany was pretty sure it was her brother coming to check on her. Considering how she hadn't left her bedroom for about two or three days since the incident, she felt it was about time someone had come to check if she were still alive. It's not so much that she felt they were being too apathetic towards her, but after Italy had left her a couple of days ago, she figured it'd be nice to have someone else come in and see her for a change. When the soft padding of footsteps had come to a halt, she assumed Prussia was standing right behind her from where she lay in hiding for quite some time. She could feel his gaze lingering on the back of her shrouded figure, examining for any signs of life. Germany deliberately stirred a little just to satisfy him, and an audible sigh of relief immediately filled the air.

"Oy…West," he called out to her in a low voice. No response. Prussia tried one more time, "West…I know you're awake." The second try managed to evoke a low and very brief grunt from beneath those bed sheets.

"Come, _Schwester_, you haven't eaten in three days. What about your whole 'Sufficient sleep and proper nutrition are of valued importance!' shit that you keep imposing on everybody?" he asked of her, clearly mocking her in her usual haranguing demeanor as he shook an accosting figure at no particular person. Despite his teasing her and his bringing up of her usual aphorisms, she only scrunched further into her seemingly-protective bed sheets. Prussia is definitely not one to tolerate any form of disobedience, and the insolence he had just been receiving from this incompetent girl in her bed educed a single vein to strain against his temple.

"So that's how you wanna play it…" he said aloud to himself, his voice low and threatening.

Germany had ignored that low mumble of a sentence just as she had with her brother's previous requests, but she was only left completely aghast the very moment she felt strong and forceful arms scoop her completely from underneath her, detangling her from her bed sheets as she was roughly slung over her brother's shoulder. A shriek of pure surprise shattered through walls only to be followed by the incessant and strident cries of protests as Prussia forcefully brought her downstairs to the kitchen like a sack of rice straight from the market.

"Dammit! _Bruder_, I'm not hungry! Put me down _now!_" she demanded him. Despite her fists constantly pounding against his back and wherever else she could effectively reach, he didn't even give so much as a flinch. Curse this diminished female stamina of hers.

"Now, when was the last time that one brother who left his sister to starve to death make it on the cover of 'Super Big Brother' monthly, hmm? As I recall, it was _never_."

Prussia's bizarre analogy had caught her off guard and left her completely befuddled, giving him enough time to throw her onto the nearest dining chair with very little protest or difficulty, save for the slight grunt from his excessive use of force and an annoyed glare shot straight between his eyes.

"I'll be a second," he mentioned before whipping out a finger in front of her face, effectively gathering all her attention. "You best not move a single centimeter off your seat—I'll only drag you back and duct tape you down."

He held her eyes in a deadlock stare for a moment, to which she responded with an equally determined glare. The annoyed huff that blew out of her nose reached Prussia as a sign of her willingness to cooperate. It was annoying enough that he actually had to drag her out of bed to have a bite to eat—like hell she was going to let it happen a second time, let alone risk that promise of being duct taped down. Prussia then left her in her seat and disappeared into the kitchen. Germany sat obediently still, fidgeting every other second before leaning on an elbow in boredom and slight pique. After a brief moment and some clattering of dishes and utensils—Prussia's disregard for fine china and silverware can get quite alarming sometimes—he emerged back into the dining room with a plate in hand. The contents remained a mystery to her until he finally reached her with merely a meter's distance: it was a steaming plate of bratwurst—six succulent sausages meticulously lined up, drizzled beautifully with copious amounts of mustard. Germany heard her stomach growl violently, and judging from the startled look and the slight flinch from Prussia, he must have heard it, as well.

"Goddamn," he teased her with a chuckle. "And _you_ were the one who didn't want to eat…pfft."

She reddened involuntary from his deriding remarks. There's no denying that Germany was hungry, but she had just been feeling too stubborn and too upset to do so much as even get a single bite for herself these past few days. Nonetheless, Prussia wasn't going to have any of it. She knew full-well that he'd keep her in place until she finished every single bite under his monitor—he'd shove it all down her throat if he really had to, so there's no point in resisting her body's needs any longer. He finally set the plate of sausages in front of her, the tantalizing smoky aroma reaching her nostrils, causing her to involuntarily hum in hunger. Her eyes rose curiously, finding her brother, who kept on a very stern face, leaning directly in front of her from the opposite side of the table.

"I'm not leaving until this plate is sparkling clean."

Her eyes fell from his to the fork that he left by her plate on the table. With tentative fingers, she picked it up, briefly eyeing it as if deliberating what proper course of action to utilize it with. She looked back at her brother another time, who responded with a gesture signaling her to go on and get her task over with. Slowly and carefully, as if any wrong movement could trigger some sort of massive explosion, she drove her fork into a juicy sausage. The slight resistance she felt upon impaling her fork on the sausage implied to her of the juicy and meaty flavor that's about to follow, bringing her to lick her lips in anticipation. She brought the sausage to level with her mouth before taking a small and careful bite. That single bite was all it took, instantly bringing Germany back to earth in touch with her instincts—the explosion of smoky, meaty flavor and juices in her mouth made her groan in sheer delight. She was famished, and there's no point in holding back. She immediately changed her pace, devouring the rest of the impaled sausage like a starved beggar before moving on the rest of the victims lined up on her plate. Oh, how she loved bratwurst. And oh, how she loved her brother for caring enough to even consider making her a plate.

Prussia sighed in utter relief that her sister is now that much farther from starving herself. He took the seat right in front of Germany, watching intently as she enthusiastically devoured each bratwurst, one by one. There was really no point for him to sit there and oversee that she eat her food because her body simply wouldn't allow her to stop at this point, but it served more as a reassurance to him that Germany was still willing to keep herself healthy and energized, despite her despondency lately. He leaned on one elbow, watching with much satisfaction as she finished the last bite, equally as satisfied as her brother if not more. She dropped her fork onto the plate with a loud clatter, disregarding her own carelessness with the china and the silverware as she fell back onto her chair, exhaling a full sigh of pure contentment. Prussia cackled victoriously after successfully getting his stubborn little sister to eat after three days without food. He abruptly stood and made his way back into the kitchen. "You're not quite done yet, West! There's a whole pot-full waiting for you in the kitchen! I'll be back with another plate."

She began stuttering in surprise and incredulity. "Wha—_Bruder_, I just finished a plate, I'm quite satisfied!" she insisted. Prussia simply scoffed. "As if, West! You haven't eaten for three days—that's only one meal out of the nine you've missed already!"

"Y-You can't just expect me to eat nine meals worth of food in one sitting! I'll only get sick!" she yelled at him. Prussia stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, hands on his hips as if he were waiting for something. Germany expressed her confusion towards his odd behavior, but was immediately distracted and jumped quite a bit when her stomach gave out yet another growl, scrounging for more alms. That second growl alone was enough of a confirmation for Prussia as he shook his head at her with an I-told-you-so grin all across his face. "In that case, I'll just stuff you until your stomach stops growling, how about that?" he teased her before he made his way back into the kitchen with his trademark cackle.

Germany leaned back onto her seat with an audible and annoyed groan. While she waited for her brother to return with her second plate, rubbing her stomach in slow and soothing circles, she heard soft scraping noises coming from behind her. The day Austria picks up a broom or a mop marks the beginning of the apocalypse, but for some reason it didn't quite feel like that day had come just yet. Germany turned around swiftly to assure herself that the apocalypse had yet to come and that someone other than Austria must be doing the sweeping—and right she was.

"Ah, _Doitsu-san_, if you could move your chair just a little to the side, please. I need to sweep under the table for a moment."

Germany was caught in quite a surprise. It seemed like quite a while since she had last seen Japan. "J-Japan!" she exclaimed with considerable cheer. "Why are you here?" she asked him, confused and uninformed. Then the sight of broom in his hand struck her in disagreement. "And why are you cleaning my house? I told you, you don't have to clean anything of mine—that's my job," she insisted with slight embarrassment of having someone else do her usual chores.

Japan swept beneath the table and maneuvered efficiently beneath and around her feet, behaving nonchalantly towards her opposition to his doing her part of the housekeeping. "I've been told that you have not been feeling well for quite some days, so I decided to stop by and take over for you. It would be a shame to let your house fall apart whenever you are feeling ill," he explained nonchalantly as he moved on to another corner around the dining room.

"That's very kind of you, but…it's really unnecessary," she insisted, a little embarrassed that she had locked herself up long enough to actually find someone else doing her chores for her. "Here," she suddenly said, quickly standing to reach for the broom in his hand. Japan only brought up a hand against her, indicating that she need not continue the work at all.

"_Doitsu-san_, you should replenish some of your energy first before you do any more work just yet," Japan suggested with sincere concern for her well-being. Something about the way Japan approaches people just leaves her feeling as if she had no other choice but to do as he suggests. She slowly retreated back to her seat, patiently waiting for the next plate coming her way. Just when she took her seat again, Prussia returned with another familiar plate of bratwurst.

"Don't worry, Japan—once she recovers from her food coma, she'll be working on those chores like the usual pro she is!" Prussia chimed, shoving the second plate in her direction.

"It's really no trouble, _Puroisen-san_," Japan insisted as he swept up the last square meters of the dining room. Germany felt awful whenever Japan insisted on doing her part of the household cleaning and it always baffled her why he would even insist on cleaning someone else's home, but it wasn't the time to ponder on such matters. In front of her sat a second serving (that is, if six sausages is considered a single serving) of bratwurst, ready to be eaten. Prussia reclaimed his previous spot, overlooking her nutrition with much earnest as before. He wouldn't allow her to even think of other tasks that needed to be done until she filled her stomach to the brim, so she took the initiative and dug into her second plate immediately.

:::::::::::::::::::

"Hmm…"

They were in a peculiar position, no doubt. Germany was seething frustration with her older brother at the moment as he kneeled before her with his ear pressed against her belly, slightly extended from the generous amounts of food he fed her, listening for any sign of famish. All the while, Japan stood in the sidelines, observing them with a mix of confusion and interest.

"_A-ano…Puroisen-san_, what exactly are you—"

"Shh! Just give me a second," he interrupted the confused man in the side.

Germany could no longer repress a low growl of annoyance. "_Bruder_, can't you feel how distended my stomach is? I'm practically bearing a food baby at the moment," she disputed, but she was only met with a finger from below in response, which only piqued her further. The feel of fingers applying pressure against her stomach only increased her urge to smash a fist down her brother's cranium. Fortunately for her—or for Prussia, depending on what could have happened within another moment—he finally pulled away with a reassured nod.

"Yup! You're full, baby _Schwester_!" he cheerfully concluded, lightly patting her belly for emphasis before standing.

She could only growl at him. "I don't understand the point of all that—why couldn't you just believe me when I said I was full?"

"Because! There are times when you don't know what you're saying, West, so it's best if you just left it to my awesome big-brother instincts!" he confidently replied, tapping a finger against his temple as an indicator of his self-proclaimed awesome intuition. He then proceeded to ruffle her hair with both hands, effectively drawing out a blood-curdling snarl from the harassed girl as she tried fending him off with very little success. What caught her off guard, however, was when he suddenly ceased his obnoxious antics, only to properly rearrange her fringe back into place before gently placing his hands on her shoulders. Despite the small smile he still had on, Germany noticed how serious his countenance had suddenly become as he held her confused eyes in place.

"If you wanna talk," he started off in a soft and low voice, "just come talk to me, ok?" The expression on his face indicated that he needed a decent and surely positive response from her, so she replied with a slow nod of the head to let him know that she understood, even though on her face was a look of slight confusion to his sudden gentleness.

He then lightly and very carefully patted her cheek, so as not to cause any pain on where her bruise still remained. "That's my awesome little sister," he cheerfully remarked, a large grin stretching across his face. With all that's said and done, Prussia walked past her towards the staircase, finally leaving her alone for the rest of the day, she hoped. She shook her head a little, trying to brush away her confusion towards her brother's unusual behavior just a moment ago.

"_Doitsu-san_…?" Japan approached her cautiously, broom in hand. She turned his direction and, with an apologetic expression on her face, reached out for the broom.

"Japan, I thought I already told you—you really don't have to clean my house for me. I can do that myself," she kindly insisted as she took the broom for herself, proceeding to areas that Japan had yet to sweep, that is, if he hadn't completed the entire house just yet. As flattering and kind it was of him to be so considerate of her, it just seemed too degrading on her part to even let someone else do the household chores for her. While she examined an adjacent salon the two of them had walked into, Japan could not help but ask, "Are you well now, _Doitsu-san?_"

"Yeah, I'm—" Germany was just about to respond to his question as if it were an everyday subject, but immediately turned to face him in sudden realization that she had not yet told Japan about the incident with France, which immediately struck her with guilt since he is one of her allies, after all. "Do…Do you know about it?" she asked timidly, afraid that he may be insulted that she had unintentionally left him out of her business.

She received a straightforward nod from him. "Italy-_kun_ called me that same day."

"Oh…I see…" The mention of Italy's name made her heart heavy.

"I would have called to make sure you were alright, myself," he continued, "but Italy-_kun _told me you were really upset by the time he left, so I decided it would be best not to bother you in the meantime."

The implications of those events made her stomach clench.

"I tried calling again, but _Puroisen-san _answered instead—he told me you were still not well. He actually invited me over today to maybe keep you company since…" He was struck with hesitance. "Well, since Italy-_kun _still seems upset…" She inhaled sharply—it seemed like he knew about her and Italy's little skirmish, as well.

With a dusting cloth in her other hand, she put the broom aside to pick up one of the porcelain figurines on a nearby shelf and mindlessly began wiping away the dust and debris on it, just to lighten her own growing solicitude. "…I'm really sorry I wasn't able to tell you myself," she softly and sincerely apologized to him. To display his ease towards everything, he took out one of his own cloths and joined her in cleaning the other figurines.

"No, no," he kindly insisted. "There is no need for apologies. What is important is that you are alright and well."

As he glanced at her direction, he saw a small smile grace her features as she looked up at him with an expression of gratitude. His cheeks reddened slightly. Japan had only seen Germany a few times since she had become female, and with that, he still had not gotten used to this inexplicable beauty she had so suddenly acquired. He awkwardly cleared his throat before redirecting his attention back to the porcelain figurine of a sleeping cat in his hands, dusting the fragile trinket with much care. Even then, he couldn't keep his eyes away. From beside him where Germany stood, he could feel the sorrow emanating from her, and with the knowledge he had, he knew it was more than just that incident with France. He observed how she slowly and absent-mindedly wiped the figurine of a little girl in her hands, and how the expression on her face reflected pure melancholy. Just as the figurine in her hand was so fragile, she seemed fragile to him, as well.

He carefully set the sleeping cat in his hands back onto the shelf, sparkling like new. "How are you and Italy-_kun_?" he asked her in a straightforward manner. He decided his approach was a little too sudden and straightforward from the sound of Germany's breath hitching at the mention of the issue. She suddenly caught a case of the butterfingers, fumbling clumsily with the little girl in her hands. Japan was quick to react, immediately catching the fragile little girl right when she slipped out of Germany's anxious fingers.

"T-Thank you," she breathed out in relief. "Austria would have killed me had I dropped that."

Japan examined the figurine to make sure no damage had been done and then proceeded to dust it off himself before taking Germany's hand and gently placing it back into hers, closing his hand onto hers in a fit of protectiveness and sudden compassion. She looked up at him, her brow slightly furrowed.

"Let us put off the cleaning another day—right now, there are much more important matters that require our attention."

::::::::::::::::::::

It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining, bright and warm, and the trees whistled with the birds as the breeze tickled its branches. She inhaled deeply, slowly and carefully taking her first breath of fresh air in a while. Beneath the white gazebo in their backyard is probably the best location for Germany to keep in touch with her inner tranquility, so she decided to wait there as Japan prepared tea for the two of them. It felt a little unnerving that she and Japan were about to discuss her issues with Italy, but it's not exactly something she could escape so easily. If the three of them were to work together, then such quarrels would only hasten their successes as a team. With teamwork aside, the three of them were supposed to be great friends, and Japan isn't one to let such a friendship go down so easily just because of a clash of feelings and a heap of misunderstandings. All of this, she had already known well from the beginning—and even then, she let her emotions get the best of her. With all honesty, she really did not know what to do anymore—with Italy or herself—and maybe Japan could be the one to mediate between the two of them. But before they were going to work anything out, she wanted to focus on the gentle nature surrounding her in her backyard first, grasping hold of her inner peace so that when she was on the verge of breaking down again, it would not be as intense or dramatic a scene as it had been before.

As her focus was centered on a pair of blue jays swimming playfully together in a bird bath, Japan finally returned with a tray in hand. In it were a brown ceramic kettle with two matching tea cups for the both of them—the tea set is clearly Japan's and not from Austria's collection of fine china sets. Germany watched him waveringly, her attention still partially being held in place by the beautiful weather all around her, as he ceremoniously poured a serving of hot tea for both her and himself. When he leaned over to offer her steaming tea cup, her fingers tentatively reached for it while she mumbled a soft mention of gratitude. The two of them simultaneously took small sips to start off, being so careful as to not scald their tongues. Although Germany was the first to pull away from her cup, she sat there silently, staring blankly at the swimming leftover black flecks of leaves that have sunk to the bottom which seemed to form an ominous blotch of some sort, unconsciously allowing Japan the opportunity to speak his mind first.

"The weather is quite beautiful today, isn't it, _Doitsu_-_san_?" he softly mentioned, his attention spread all across the beautiful garden that made up Germany's backyard. It took her quite some time to be broken out of her trance, responding a few seconds later with an awkward nod in agreement. Although she blushed a bit in embarrassment of being so unfocused, Japan seemed to be entranced by his own thoughts as he stared longingly into the blue distance bordered by fuzzy branches of green ahead of him.

He sighed softly. "Could you believe I've actually locked myself away from this beautiful sunshine for so long?" His eyes suddenly fell back on hers and they seemed to expect some sort of response from her since he was clearly trying to relate to the three days she had locked herself away.

She cleared her throat. "I-It's a shame you had to miss so many years of fresh air," she started off shakily, unsure of where the conversation should be leading. From there, she chose to continue the conversation, so that she could at least show him that she was interested in his company. Very rarely did they ever get to sit down together like this, after all.

"Didn't you feel lonely that entire time you were locked away in your house?" she asked quite mindlessly, in a sense, more on the intention of continuing the topic than trying to lessen its significance with herself.

Japan nodded straightforwardly. "Very lonely. When I look back on it now, I realize I was quite afraid. I seemed to have bottled up quite a bit of fear of all things around me. With all that fear, even I do not know how I managed to survive."

Germany was unsure of how to respond to him anymore. Upon noticing her brow furrow slightly , he decided to cut to the chase. "I truly am grateful that I came out of hiding eventually, because if I had not, I would not have met you and Italy-_kun_," he mentioned with much sincerity, flashing the tiny remnants of what could be a smile. She also couldn't help but give away a small smile, herself. She thought it very sweet that he actually valued their friendship this much.

"I realized that fear would have only inhibited all that this life had to uncover for me."

Something about this conversation seemed very familiar to her, as if she were hit with a mild case of déjà vu. But with a subtle gasp of breath, she had come to truly realize that Japan had been trying to reach out to her without directly referring to her own fears. He seemed to have noticed how she realized his method of bringing her out of hiding, yet he held his gaze with hers so steadily, as if he really were just speaking his thoughts aloud to her. The grip of her fingers on the tea cup tightened steadily. She cast her eyes down in a tiny wave of embarrassment that he was able to weed out her troubles so easily and so subtly.

She began with a very low voice, "Would you believe me if I said I'm actually afraid of Italy right now?"

"I believed as much when I saw that bruise on his face."

She flinched heavily, the sudden flashback of her fist colliding with his jaw drowning her in a storm of guilt. "I have no intention of making you feel guilty, or making you the villain in all this," he explained. "I just want you to realize that you've made a mistake that you never meant to make."

"I have realized it," she replied remorsefully, lightly setting her tea cup down on the table before she finds the opportunity to chuck it into the nearby bird bath. She sighed. "I just don't enjoy having to accept it."

"It is difficult for anyone to accept something they are not very proud of," he reasoned with her. "But if you realize why you had done it in the first place, it will become easier to solve the problems behind it."

Fingers began twiddling along the table. "Have you…talked to Italy about this?" she asked him anxiously. She looked up at him, only to see him shake his head.

"_Doitsu-san_, you think you are emotionally unstable now, but you may have forgotten that Italy-_kun_ is even more so than you are, especially now that his own heart is also broken."

"It's my heart he had broken, first," she unintentionally retorted with much bitterness. Japan was not offended or at all fazed. He held his gaze on her—he had expected just as much eventually. "I think…" she trailed off much more softly than before, "…I just wanted to even the score between us. But now that we're even, I regret what I've done." She leaned her forehead on one hand, shielding her remorse from Japan's eyes. She then felt him reach out to her, his hand making contact with hers that rested on the table.

"You must also consider," he continued gently, "that Italy-_kun_ hadn't realized his own mistakes, either. He had no idea he had been hurting you this entire time."

A brief silence followed. "That's just how he is all the time: oblivious to others' feelings," she responded bitterly.

"…You are just angry, that's all."

He continued staring at her, examining her reactions to his words, pondering over her words in turn and her true feelings behind them, before coming to a conclusion.

"I don't think it is really Italy_-kun _you are afraid of, _Doitsu-san_."

Upon those words, she raised her eyes towards him in interest and confusion. "I think you are just afraid of being rejected by him." Crystal-blue eyes redirected to the tall oak tree on her right. "It makes sense," Japan continued, disregarding her seemingly wavering attention towards his reasoning. "You have never been in love, neither have you ever been rejected in love…have you?"

She swallowed a little. "I…feel like he has rejected me before without realizing it…" she responded tentatively. She was unsure of her own answer to his question. "I don't like to dwell on the possibility because it hurts…"

"Then it is only natural to be afraid."

"I don't like being afraid," she replied firmly, her hand tightening into a fist on the table. "I'm not supposed to be afraid, especially of trivial matters such as these."

"Then find a way to overcome this fear."

Her eyes shot up to meet his. That line was certainly something she had heard before. "Every human has his fears, and I'm sure you've had it in the middle of battle—you've just found those fears easier to overcome than this—this is something completely different and inexplicable. For many of us, it is beyond our comprehension; hence, many others feel afraid of it, also."

They stared each other down for some moments. "Have you ever been in love, Japan?" she suddenly yet softly asked with much curiousity.

She elicited a subtle chuckle from him. "During my many years on this earth? I have had my few loves." He leaned onto his elbow once more, staring into the fluffy clouds in wonder. "After all these years, I still haven't found the one yet, it seems." His eyes fell back on Germany's, who had hers wide open in wonder. "But, _Doitsu-san_, you must realize: these are things that cannot be rushed. I am past my prime, but you have the advantage of youth. Do not let your fears inhibit you because you will only be holding back the possibilities."

She was still unconvinced. "But what if…"

"What if he does not love you back for who you really are?" Her eyes looked up at him with the greatest amount of worry he had never seen on her before, shocking him quite a bit, yet he still stood his ground. "…Then you move on."

That, too, was a very familiar piece of advice. "Move on while you are still young. With youth comes an infinite amount of chances and opportunities. You must realize this now before it is too late."

She blinked a few times, letting the weight of his wisdom sink into her. "Remember how much Italy cares for you—he may not love you back for who you really are the same way you love him, but he would never forsake you. I have enough confidence in these words."

A burst of airiness suddenly emerged from between them. Germany could not hold back the small smile that rose along her cheeks—she felt like Japan had just taken her hand and lifted her out of a hole she could not seem to climb out of, herself. There was still a small ounce of fear that remained, but thanks to him, she found a reason to come out of hiding and at least continue walking this rocky path. But the both of them knew that it would not just go on smoothly from there—there was an unfinished job in her hands.

"Talk to him," he suddenly added. "You will never know unless you talk to him about it."

She nodded slowly, her eyes roaming around in thought. With both hands and a determined sigh, she lifted her tea cup to him, holding his eyes with her own as she quietly mentioned, "Thank you."

Japan lifted his tea cup, as well. "I am always happy to help."

::::::::::::::::::::

The doors that towered in front of her were foreboding. For as long as they have been living together, Germany would make any excuse to keep from entering her brother's bedroom at any cost, save for those few times she was brave enough to attempt cleaning it. After what seemed like an unnecessary eternity of standing still, her hand tentatively reached out for that ostentatious knocker placed in the mouth of a fierce solid-gold jaguar. She began knocking in steady motions and even rhythm—he could certainly hear that thunderous knocker from miles away, so she needn't bother to knock more than twice. Within a few seconds, she could hear soft rustling accompanied by some clamor and curses coming from the inside. The door violently swung open, taking Germany by surprise as she found her brother half-dressed and seemingly in the process of completing the task.

There were no words shared. On Prussia's face was a questioning and suspicious look, his patience seemingly running on a lit fuse. Germany sighed. "I'd like to talk with you," she said very straightforwardly.

In no time, a wide grin stretched across her brother's face from ear to ear. "Oh~ So you've come to bask in my awesomeness, I see."

She rolled her eyes at his usual haughty nature. "If that's the way you'd like to put it, then yes, that's what I'm here for," she attempted to humor him.

He suddenly held up a hand. "That's fine and all, but you have to wait for my awesomeness to get dressed first."

"Wha—" she stuttered in bafflement. "I'm your _brother_—can't you just get dressed while we talk in your room?"

"Wha—" he also stuttered in bewilderment to such a suggestion. "Right now, you are my _sister. _What kind of indecent ideas are you provoking me with?" he chided her. "For one, I can't just let an unmarried woman walk into my bedroom willy-nilly—"

Germany's patience sat on thin ice as she placed her hands on her hips.

"—And for another, I can't just let a woman _watch_ me get dressed or, even worse, _un_dressed!"

Prussia also placed his hands on his hips, finding his sister's suggestions so very provocative and unbecoming. They stared each other down for a few moments, testing to see who would surrender and admit their mistake first. Frankly, Germany had grown sick and tired of being babied like this by her brother, and she wasn't about to back down so easily.

"_Bruder_…" she began softly before raising the tone and weight of her voice, "_Ich. Bin. Dein Bruder._" She made her voice so full that her insistence seemed to echo throughout Prussia's bedroom from behind him. Her hands suddenly reached for his shoulders, gripping them urgently. "Stop treating me like your sister or your cousin or any other female-role you could think of—I am still your brother, _Ludwig_!"

He stared back at her coldly, seemingly unfazed by her dogged actions. "Enough with this silly overly-protective big brother stuff already! You know I can do fine on my own!" It almost sounded like she was pleading with him—she was clearly fed up with his antics. Enough was enough.

Germany stood there, still gripping onto his shoulders. She noticed how Prussia's demeanor had become cold and solid, staring her down with a familiar intensity that could sometimes make her shrink back in defeat, and she was getting to that point if she chose to keep his stare for another while longer. He then slowly placed his hands on hers, lifting her hands away from his shoulders and back to her sides. When Prussia retreated back into his bedroom, disappearing for a moment, Germany was left standing in her spot, feeling slightly defeated and ready to surrender. After the sounds of some rummaging, he emerged another moment later and caught his sister by surprise when he leaned over her and caused a scratching sensation along her scalp.

"Wh-What the hell, _Bruder_!" she yelled in confusion and irritation. Whatever it was he was doing to her scalp, he wasn't being very gentle about it. After half a minute of uncomfortable scratching and scraping, Prussia finally pulled back with a satisfied look on his face.

"There…" he mumbled. Germany shot him a look of utter bewilderment, unsure of what the purpose of his sudden actions were, until she felt her forehead free from the itch of her blonde fringe. Her hands reached up to feel what he had done to her hair, only to realize that he had slicked it back with a comb to resemble her usual old hairstyle.

"_Now_ you're my brother," he cheerfully concluded before gesturing his welcome with his head. "Come inside and bask in my awesomeness, my spoiled baby brother."

She growled a little, but was nonetheless satisfied that her brother had finally decided to let her in after such silly propositions. With a very hesitant sigh, she stepped forth into the abyss of treachery that made up her brother's man cavern. Upon taking her first step, however, she was surprised she hadn't been assaulted by the gut-wrenching stench of month-old foods or unwashed laundry. Then again, she had cleaned his room just a month ago, but Prussia was more than capable of recreating havoc in less than an hour. While she diffidently approached his slightly mussed-up bed and cautiously took a seat on the ruffled bed sheets, afraid that something may just emerge from underneath and swallow her alive, Prussia proceeded to his extravagantly large walk-in closet, disappearing completely behind its shelves of clothes, shoes, and other weird items. Sometimes she wondered who was the more grandiose of the two: Austria or her brother.

"So what are we talking about?" he yelled from within the closet.

Germany was very reluctant about her topic choice, but she really felt she needed to consult with her elder brother's wisdom, as well. He was the one who kindly offered in the first place, anyway. Some results were better than others, but she knew she could always depend on her brother's experience and expertise, regardless of what subject area it was.

"_Bruder_," she started off hesitantly. "Between me and…" She swallowed before continuing. "Between me and Italy…who do you think is right?"

At first, she was met with silence, but soon enough Prussia's head popped out from the walk-in closet to meet with Germany's stare. He had a comically skeptical countenance painted all over his face and looked as if he could barely hold back an enormous bout of laughter. "I think the two of you are both crazy _and _stupid."

She shot him an incredulous glare in response to his abhorrent answer. "That's very enlightening—why hadn't I considered this possibility long ago?" she responded sarcastically.

Prussia simply shrugged, walking out of his closet while buttoning his jacket on the way. "That just how I see it—I think love is a crazy and stupid thing. Why do you think I've stayed alone all these years? And clearly, that's how the two of you are acting right now."

She was only all the more frustrated with his response. She's starting to believe that maybe coming to him with such a topic was too much of a stretch of faith. "Then tell me, oh wise one, what it is that makes us crazy and stupid."

He stopped buttoning his military jacket for a second, shooting an incredulous look at her direction. "Why can't you just believe that the fool loves you? …Okay, you're free not to believe him, but why'd you have to punch him in the face for that?"

"So you're saying I'm at fault for all of this?" she retorted much more sternly than she intended to.

"No, that's not _exactly_ what I'm trying to say," he responded as he walked over to his dresser to pull out some cuff links, pins, and a small silver revolver. "But I _will_ mention that you've missed some factors leading up to your conclusion."

"What conclusion?" she asked him, her features creasing in befuddlement.

After neatly placing all his pins and cuff links in place and carefully slipping his revolver into a holster beneath his jacket, he turned from his dresser to face her with a sly grin on his face. "I know what you're thinking—you think that Italy has the hots for you just because you're a chick right now—"

She averted her gaze to another direction, the rising embarrassment preventing her from looking him in the eye as he continued with his assumptions. "—And you're afraid and so extremely offended that he might be so shallow as to actually dump you once you grow your penis back."

"You know there are better ways of rewording your theories," she huffed. Prussia shrugged, uncaring to her subtle suggestions of less vulgar use of language.

"Cutting to the chase, have you not considered why it must be that Italy had only begun acting this way when you grew boobs?"

"Are you saying it _wasn't_ because I grew boobs?" she countered with slight cynicism and much doubt.

"That's an incomplete reason," he replied with a quipping finger. "Think about it—Italy has always been most comfortable and most confident around women, right?"

"Yeah…and?"

"And what of Ludwig? Big, strong, macho Ludwig, who could run down enemy nations with his bare fists? Do you really think Italy would want to get lovey-dovey with someone who looks like he could eat you alive and whole?"

Despite his reasoning, she rolled her eyes around in subtle offense to his descriptions of her. "…You could have been a little nicer with your theories."

"Oh, boo hoo. Suck it up—it's just the truth," he scoffed.

"How do you even know if he had even loved me before all this?" she pressed him, disregarding his immature derisions. "Why is it that during that one time when I actually showed him affection, he never bothered returning it the same way like he would now?"

"Because!" he immediately responded, rummaging in his closet once more for a good pair of boots. "Your approach that time was so aloof that he didn't even realize you were conveying those kinds of feelings to him!" Germany's brow scrunched in revelation of her past mistakes. Countless all-nighters she had to put up with just to follow according to that damn manual, and it led her nowhere. "He actually thought you were just extremely angry with him—that's how bad you were," he added with a taunting chuckle. "Of course, after that night, he must have been pretty afraid to try again or try at all, even. Your turning into a woman must have been one of the greatest miracles in his life—not because you grew boobs, but because it had become that much easier for him to try his hand again at expressing his love for you. Or maybe this could possibly even be his first ever attempt at expressing such feelings for you." He emerged once more from his closet, this time fully dressed and complete in his boots and his Prussian-blue trench coat, ready and set to go. He had walked out only to be met with his sister's wide and blue eyes, her expression reading that of utter amazement towards his surprisingly extended knowledge over the subject matter, but she turned away in embarrassment that she hadn't been able to come up with these reasons herself.

"How could you possibly figure these things out better than I can?" she asked him in amazement and frustration with herself.

"Because love is a battlefield, dear sister," he sighed distantly. "Just as with any other battle, you have to be aware, you have to be prepared, and you have to stay ahead of the game. It's all in a similar mindset—I'm sure if you gave it a little more time, you could've figured it out yourself eventually. But it's much better that I figured it out for you now, don't you think so?" He cocked his head arrogantly, popping his collar with emphasis. "You are definitely no expert in love…and neither am I," he admitted much more humbly than his actions reflect as he took a seat beside Germany on his bed. "But consider this: right now you're out there on the field fighting off all this crap coming your way, but meanwhile I'm standing up here," he motioned his hands to level above his forehead, "high upon a cliff with a three-sixty degree view of everything around me, including that tiny speck of you struggling down there. For me, these things are just that much easier to discern than it is for you."

With very little warning, he reached out a hand to ruffle his sister's slicked hair back into its messy, feminine crops. "I'd seem far away while you're down there fighting, but if you come back to me alive, I'd be the greatest advantage you'd ever have in the battlefield—I've seen everything that the enemy has to hammer us with. If you want that upper hand, you have to come back to me alive." He gently and affectionately patted her blonde matte of hair, a truly cheerful grin stretched across his face. "And I'm certainly glad you came back to me after all that crap you've gone through."

Now this was the kind of language Germany could easily comprehend, and with it, Prussia was successfully able to draw out even more of her confidence. "Now that I've told you what I know and what I've observed, have you been given enough insight, baby _Schwester_?"

While he sat beside her, she looked at him with a curious and slightly mischievous squint of her pretty blue eyes. That uncharacteristic look in her face struck Prussia with slight surprise and curiosity as to what it was she could be thinking. "_Was_?"

"_Bruder, _who was your first love?"

Initially, she was met with a wide and blank stare from his crimson eyes, either indicating a lack of response or utter confusion. In no time, however, she received an enormous and haughty cackle that almost seemed to be laced with a hint of anxiety.

"Ahaha! Aha… 'first love,' ah…You're funny, West…" he laughed his heart out, wiping away a stray tear as he abruptly stood.

Germany raised a scrutinizing eyebrow at his odd response to her question. "…I was being serious,_ Bruder_."

He simply scoffed. "Psh. 'First love,' you say," he mumbled under his breath. "I'm a man of God and a man of duty, West. I have no business in fooling around with women or otherwise," he responded arrogantly and insistently.

Prussia hadn't managed to catch the way Germany rolled her eyes at his usual reaction on the subject of his love life—such a conversation wasn't exactly new between them, but she was always willing to give it another shot to figure out her brother's secret life.

"So then…" Prussia continued, effectively catching Germany's attention one more time. "Is that all you need to talk about?" he asked her. The tone of his voice was a little ambiguous—Germany was unsure whether Prussia wanted to have her out of his presence already or keep her in for a while longer for any reason. "There's…" He awkwardly cleared his throat as if he were trying to hold back a sudden outburst. "…nothing else you'd like to, y'know…discuss?" Germany noticed how his fingers by his side began this cycle of curling into a fist and then uncurling. A recognizable bloodlust filled the air.

It became clear to her that Prussia wanted to know if she was still being mentally and emotionally tormented by France's previous assaults. He must have needed even more of an incentive or some sort of approval to pummel the culprit to death with his bare hands. Just as Italy did not like seeing her so agitated and bloodthirsty, it didn't please her to see her brother so murderous and vengeful.

She looked up at him with a sincere and slightly melancholy smile along her cheeks as she shook her head softly. "Don't worry about me."

She didn't receive much of a response. On his face was a look of doubt with some remnants of wrath still in place. "Believe me, I have other issues I'd much rather take care of right now," she reassured him. "France can wait."

There was a minute of silence between them. Prussia's eyes drifted to a close while he dragged out a sigh of acceptance. "If you say so…"

"By the way," she spoke out, effectively grabbing his attention. "If you haven't figured it out yet, England is the one responsible for all…_this_." She emphasized the information by bringing her hands beneath her large breasts and slightly bouncing them, successfully reddening Prussia's cheeks to a nice cherry hue.

"Erm—t-that information is new, but I'm not all that surprised, actually."

"Just letting you know what we'll have to deal with at some point.

"Oh, I _know_ we have a lot to deal with," he responded with a low snarl.

While crimson eyes gazed unfocusedly at some random direction with much murderous intent, Germany began eyeing his outfit up and down in a delayed recognition that her brother was just about to head out somewhere—with a gun on his person, to mention the least. "And just where are you heading, exactly?" she demanded of him like an overprotective mother, which paled in comparison to Prussia's overprotective nature.

"Huh?" At first, he responded with a look of confusion before he looked at his outfit in realization. "Oh! Right…Well, now that our discussion is over and done, I was planning on telling you—I'll be heading out for an overseas conference. I don't know how long I'll be away, but plan on a few days of me not being around or anything."

"Wha—wait, why haven't I been told about this?" she asked in flabbergast, slightly offended that she had not been informed.

"Uhh, well, you obviously aren't allowed to attend. Duh," he reminded her, placing his fists on his hips.

She growled at him. "Even then, it'd be nice if you told me about these things beforehand, so that I'm up to date with information. What is it about anyway? Where will it be held? And if you knew you were going to be gone for more than one day, why haven't you packed any extra clothing?"

"Jesus Christ, calm your balls down, sister!" he retorted. "By golly, you and your load of questions—it doesn't seem to end sometimes!"

"Just give me an answer, will you?" she demanded of him with much annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah…Well, we're gathering at an undisclosed location near Morocco. The higher-ups have already booked me a flight and I've had my stuff packed the other day while you were locked up, so I'm way ahead of you," he added a wave of the hand in reassurance, "and don't ask me what it's about, because I honestly don't have a clue—we weren't given any information on the purpose of this conference. They won't even disclose the location to me until my plane touches down on Africa, so that's as much as I can tell you until I get back home."

The fact that no purpose had been given for this particular conference struck Germany with much curiosity and suspicion. However, it was definitely not something new and too unusual, so she let it slide. "Bottom line," Prussia continued, "I'll be gone a few days, so…"

He then approached her and leaned over, catching her by surprise as she backed away a little, unsure of what to expect from his movements. "Make note of what I'm about to do, because I'm only gonna do this once, maybe twice, in your entire lifetime," he sternly ordered her. What subsequently followed was, not only beyond Germany's comprehension, but also completely beyond her expectations. Prussia leaned over and placed his hand behind her head, so that he could bring her in closer and place a light kiss on her forehead. Germany was struck with so much shock that she was unable to speak for a few moments, but the bright-red hue on her cheeks displayed much of her reaction towards her brother's uncharacteristic affection. What made her blush a little more is the memory of her making the same action on her brother, except he was already fast asleep at the time.

Prussia let go of her head, so that she could look up and look him straight in the eye as he continued speaking, "Take _that_ as a hint, baby _Schwester_. I won't be here to protect you for a few days, so you better take care of yourself."

It took her quite some time to recompose herself, the shock of Prussia's sudden affection hindering her ability to respond properly. She shook her head violently, trying to shake off the redness of her cheeks. "I-Idiot! Of course I know that much! I told you to stop babying me already!"

"Haha!" he laughed haughtily, which only further angered his little sister. "You're the baby of the house, remember? So long as I'm your big brother, as if I'm ever gonna stop babying you…"

With an angered and determined look in her eyes, she attempted to huff out fire through her nose as a form of intimidation, but to no avail—she is still human, even though of the opposite gender. Her eyes cast down in a fit of bashfulness as she mumbled under her breath, "Just come home safely, m'kay?"

Prussia snorted, feeling obliged to affectionately ruffle her hair once more. "Of course I know that much," he softly responded with a small grin, slightly mocking her in the process. "By the way, West…"

She looked up at him when he appealed for her attention, only to be met with a very canny smirk along his cheeks. "I'll make sure I come home with a special surprise just for you, okay? So you better be excited, you got that?"

Her brow scrunched in total confusion, but just as she had with his past displays of weird and suspicious behavior, she slowly nodded her head, providing him the satisfactory response he needed from her. "Is it safe to say that I'm a little wary about this?" she asked him cautiously. For all she knew, he could be planning on bringing home something absurd and bizarre…like an orangutan or a camel or a boxful of fried tarantulas on skewers for the two of them to snack on…all those seemed very likely to her.

He pursed his lips for a moment in thought before nodding rapidly in agreement. "Hmm…yeah, I guess it might shock you a little. But trust me! You'll be extremely happy I was awesome enough to even do it for you."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, I'll look forward to it," she humored him.

After getting a satisfying response from her, he pulled away with a grin and headed towards his bedroom door. On his way out, he looked over his shoulder and cast a vigilant look her direction. "Don't get too riled up while I'm away, okay?" With that, he made his way through his towering doors and out his bedroom, leaving behind his slightly confused and still slightly amazed little sister sitting on his bed all alone. She looked over her shoulder, her gaze still lingering on the slightly ajar door. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back on both hands, looking up wistfully at the darkened ceiling above her. The sun was just setting from her brother's bedroom window in front of her and it left behind the last few remnants of sunlight dancing across the ceiling and the walls.

"With all that I'm going to have to deal with, I can't guarantee that much, _Bruder_," she mumbled to herself, planning out the proper course of action to take while he was gone and out of her way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **fastest update i've made in a while, i'd have to say :3 chapter title = "Chat" and a lot of chatting there was in this chapter. not to mention the most random shoutout to Pat Benatar XP

soooo what i tried to do here is to have Germany consult two separate views on her current problems. Japan helped her figure out what her own problems were while Prussia helped her figure out what Italy's problem with her was, so they both really helped her out on this. i wanted to play with Prussia a little, give him a really surprising and interesting view on love. it's obviously nothing new since Pat Benatar sang a whole song about it lol. the idea actually came before the song—as i was writing up his battlefield dialogue, i started singing "Love is a Battlefield" and i thought "oh hey~ what a great cameo" :P i have no say on whether or not Prussia had a first love. i will mention that i am a slight PruxHun closet fan—i ship them occasionally, so that's a possibility in my book haha~

well, in addition, just a random thought: playing right now on my sister's iPod is "If Your Heart's Not In It" by Westlife. search up the lyrics and agree with me that this is the song Germany should be singing to Italy by his balcony right now XD /corny (omg you guys, i love singing that song, myself :P)

fyi after this chapter, we'll be getting to the really good stuff here, folks. and i mean the REALLY good stuff 8D *snickers* so hold onto your saddle~!


	12. Wahrheit

**Chapter 12 – ****Wahrheit**

"Bloody hell…I couldn't have possibly run out of Earl Grey already…"

Two o'clock in the British Isle.

At this time of the day, the sun would be hot and high up the sky if the clouds had been gracious enough to let it through. It was just about time for afternoon tea and England had been attempting to get his afternoon going if he could just find his blasted Earl Grey in his jumble of a pantry.

"Let's see, let's see…Green…Breakfast…Chai…Aha!" he cheered triumphantly as he pulled out his precious tin box of Earl Grey tea bags. The kettle was already whistling impatiently when he was in the middle of preparing his china set and his finger foods. With great care, he poured the scalding hot water onto a fragrant bag of Earl Grey in his floral tea cup, appreciating the way the aromatic vapors that reached his nostrils opened up his sinuses and allowed him to breathe all the more easily. The plate of finger sandwiches and his cup of tea were all set and ready to go—all he needed now were some tunes.

Just as he was walking over to the nearest radio to choose a station, there came the light chime of the doorbell, almost immediately followed by a rapt and urgent knock downstairs on his front door. England chose to brush it off at first, but the way this person continued to rap at his door with such urgency and persistence implied to him that he wasn't about to leave until his presence were acknowledged. With a bothered groan, he pulled away from the radio without having successfully decided on a station to drag his feet downstairs to the front door.

"Dammit…what bad timing is this?" he grumbled as his feet shuffled down the stairs. "Alright, alright—I'm coming," he called out before his hand reached for the locks on his front door. It took him about half a minute to unlock his door before his wrist twisted the knob open for the unannounced visitor.

"Yes, yes, what do you need?" he mindlessly asked.

In a sudden flash of movement, England felt the collar of his shirt violently being yanked from one direction to another. He could barely comprehend the string of movement occurring all around him, but he eventually heard the front door being slammed shut, and he found his back being slammed to the nearest wall with a set of fingers clasped around his throat. His eyes were shut from a mix of whiplash and the throbbing feel emanating all along his back, but he certainly felt a cold pressure in the center of his forehead.

"Agh—who in the hell…" he grumbled in incredulity and slight pain, still trying to comprehend what exactly was occurring that very moment. Was he being robbed? Had his debts finally caught up to him? He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision. When his eyes had finally opened up, he was immediately met by a frightening pair of blazing red eyes that left his blood running cold. His eyes drifted up and refocused a little only to find that the cold pressure he felt was the barrel of a silver revolver pressed up right between his eyes. He involuntarily shuddered in a sudden burst of shock and fear, his mouth opening in an attempt to speak out. Alas, his voice was lost.

"Don't make a single noise…" a low and feral voice started off, "Don't even breathe right now...You will not speak a single word unless I tell you to."

The sound of a thumb cocking the revolver made England tense completely, raising his hands subconsciously in a sign that he was more than willing to cooperate for the life of him. The hand grasping around his throat suddenly snatched for his collar a second time, spinning him around until he grabbed a hold of both arms by the wrists in a flash of movement, the revolver now pressed against the back of his cranium. He was about to let out a groan of pain, but immediately repressed it in memory of his captor's orders and the gun against his head. They rushed to the nearest dining table in the first floor where Prussia could surely find a stable chair with a solid pair of arms. Upon finding one, he shoved his hostage down on the seat and materialized a bundle of ropes, with which he quickly tied his arms down onto the wooden arms of the chair. Despite the threat of being shot to death, at that point he really needed to know what this whole hostage deal was all about.

"Okay, okay…what the bloody hell is going on right now?" he demanded of the German binding him to the chair. Prussia had just about finished tying him up and immediately shot him a glare in response, keeping England rigid in his seat. Much quicker than England could react, Prussia's arm immediately swung forward in the direction of his hostage's face, causing him to flinch in his seat and squeeze his eyes shut in preparation for the bout of pain that's about to follow. When no impact came in contact with his nose, he cracked open one eye at a time, immediately met by the sight of Prussia's gloved and hard knuckles just a centimeter away from his face, a chunky solid-gold ring in the molding of the Prussian eagle aimed right between his eyes. He pulled his fist away slowly, only to twist painfully at the Briton's nose, evoking a loud groan of pain out of him.

"Agh! What the—shit! What the hell!"

"I told you not to say a word unless I tell you to," he calmly repeated to him, spinning his silver revolver in the opposite hand.

"You bloody git…" he snarled at him. He really wished he could reach up and rub his sore nose at the moment. "I know you're crude and all, but don't you have enough manners to at least let your hostages know why you're terrorizing them?"

He suddenly felt his hair being yanked at as Prussia pulled his face threateningly close to his—so close that he could practically feel the fire blazing through his nostrils. "Oh, like you don't have a clue."

For a second, England stared at him blankly, honestly unsure of what it was that would bring a raging German to wreak havoc in his household. But one proper review of his agenda that had occurred that past month made him realize the only possible reason why Prussia should be tying him up that very moment, and with that in mind, he couldn't help but snicker.

"Well, then I hope Germany had finally learned his lesson about messing with the almighty British Empire," he snickered. Such a remark only angered Prussia to the point of molting hot lava, and was subsequently followed by his fist actually colliding with England's jaw with a sickening crack.

"AGH! Bastard!" he spat at him, his split-open lip just beginning to bleed.

"Ah, shut the fuck up—you're obviously nothing compared to my awesomeness. Humbly speaking, you're just as much of an empire as I am a kingdom right now, so cut the 'British Empire' bullshit already," Prussia responded resentfully as he spun his revolver around in one hand. Considering his position, England could only so much as glare at his captor as he began to slowly pace around him.

"I could care just a little bit less about all this black magic hullaballoo you've been practicing in your spare time," he began apathetically. "But overall it comes down to this: if West is unhappy…" He then leaned on either arms of the chair, banefully looming over England's bound figure. "…then I may as well be just as fucking unhappy."

The Briton attempted to put up at least a straight face, but the malice emanating behind Prussia's crimson red eyes made it very difficult for him. Prussia then pulled back slightly, eyeing him with some sort of interest. "What's your motive behind all this anyway?" he asked him in sincere curiosity.

England actually had to take a second to consider his answer, but only came up to the simplest of responses with a sheepish shrug. "Simple revenge is all that it was," he answered almost nonchalantly, followed by a deriding snort from the German in front of him.

"Your idea of revenge is turning a dude into a chick? God, you suck at this vengeance stuff," he chuckled guiltlessly.

A string of offended garbles filled the air. "Wha—Why you little—I oughta—AGH! A-As if you can turn me into a woman, yourself!" he attempted to counter.

Prussia shrugged admittedly. "You're right—I am no more capable of turning you into a woman than you are in getting yourself laid."

"GAH—"

"But," he continued, his voice suddenly becoming low and menacing, "I certainly know how to make a grown man squirm at a whim better than you can." He loomed over his hostage again, this time in mockery and amusement. "Your idea of revenge on my brother was to make him feel as vulnerable as he made you feel? Now that's just pure cowardice. At least I'm more than willing to confront you with an extremely painful interrogation right this minute."

England bore his teeth at him in a snarl. "What?" Prussia asked him mockingly. "Were you not expecting me to come after you? Actually…" He then pulled away from him and put a finger to his lip. "…if you had kept one of your buddies in a leash to begin with, maybe I wouldn't have been as hyped up in capturing you, myself—I probably would have let sister West do the job of tying you up and doing you in if I weren't so pissed off about what happened earlier this week."

That last string of words left the Briton to narrow his eyes at him in confusion. "What the hell are you going on about?" he asked him suspiciously.

Prussia's eyes widened in surprise and amusement. "You—You mean…you don't _know _about what happened?" he asked him, the tone of his voice high and unbelieving.

"What? What the hell am I supposed to know about?" England demanded just as incredulously, his eyes searching frantically as if the answer to this mysterious circumstance were somewhere floating in midair.

A devious grin slowly began to spread across Prussia's cheeks as he slowly shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, this is gonna be so interesting," he chuckled quietly to himself.

He then suddenly turned on his heel and began walking away, leaving England flabbergasted in his chair. "Wha—woah! Wait a minute—are you just gonna leave me here?" he called out to him, struggling in his bindings. Prussia never ceased walking, but instead twisted to point a demanding finger at his direction. "You stay right there—don't move a muscle!"

England's green eyes trailed incredulously at his captor until he disappeared from the room and the sound of the front door slamming followed. He sat there for a second before he began fidgeting around and mockingly calling out, "Oh look! I'm wiggling my shoulder muscles! I certainly hope you won't shoot me for it! Stupid git…"

Within a minute of fidgeting excessively in his bindings in hopes of finding some sort of escape, the sound of the front door slamming reached his ears, as well as the sound of a second voice that sounded very much in distress. He was hit with a sudden wave of curiosity as to whose this new voice might be—did he have another victim in his hands? Or was he another accomplice? As the footsteps neared him, the new voice began sounding more and more familiar as the string of French curses became clearer to him. Prussia returned to England's presence, yanking with him a very familiar Frenchman by the hair. He was disheveled from the head down—there were blotches of bloodstains all over his half-ripped half-unbuttoned white shirt, blood was smeared all over his nose and all around his mouth, and his hands were also bound behind his back. It looked like Prussia got to him first, much to France's misfortune.

The blonde blew a stray strand of hair out of his face covered in blackened-blue bruises before greeting the Englishman with a sheepishly crooked and battered smile. "_B-Bon jour, Angleterre_."

With all events coming into play—Prussia interrogating him on his brother's gender change and France's mauled face—England had then come to fully understand why exactly Prussia was yanking the Frenchman viciously by the hair.

"…Oh, no you _didn't_…"

France shrugged diffidently, trying to move his head around beneath Prussia's stronghold grip on his hair. "Well, what do you expect? You made one hell of a woman out of her! That rack was begging to be handled," he responded shamelessly as he tried to hold back a devious snicker. Prussia responded accordingly and immediately, swinging his head by the hair and bashing his already battered face into the nearest wall.

"Say that again, you dirty bastard," Prussia snarled as he pulled his face back from the wall.

France coughed out some blood and spat out a piece of his canine that chipped off when his face made contact with the wall. "Ack—guh…Hey, Prussia…" he grumbled to him, causing him to raise an eyebrow as to what audacious things might spill out of his mouth next. "…I'd totally bang your sister," he sneered impudently just to piss off his captor. After having been so beaten and battered and bound, he hadn't much to lose anyway. This consequently led to his face being smashed into that same space of wall a second time, only with much more crushing force—his nose must have been broken into at least a hundred pieces by then. When Prussia pulled his face away from the wall, there almost looked to be a full bloodied imprint of his face on that wall, leaving England to grimace in total disgust before their captor violently threw France onto the floor. The Frenchman slid along the wood and found himself right beside his accompanying hostage, who immediately kicked him in pure repulsion.

"You stupid frog! You blew our cover, didn't you?"

He shot him a look of flabbergast and insult. "_I _blew our cover? You were after her, too, remember?"

"Yes! We were supposed to do her in _together_, but not like _that_! I can't believe you went behind my back just to fondle her—that wasn't part of the damn plan! You are completely out of your mind!"

Since his legs were not bound to the chair, he began to kick incessantly at the unarmed and undefended man beneath him. France repositioned himself along the floor so that he could somehow fight back with a series of awkward kicks, some of which managed to reach England's chin in a swift attack.

"Shut up, you ugly loser! I'm surprised you weren't thinking the same ideas as I was considering you can't even get laid, yourself," he jeered.

"Fucking mother of—you're so lucky this bastard tied me up! I would've shoved my Britannia fist up your ass by now!"

"Oh, I would've been _so_ ahead of you had this bastard not tied me up, my dear _Angleterre_."

"AGH! I FUCKING HATE YOU! STUPID FROG!"

"THE SAME TO YOU, YOU UGLY SON OF A BITCH!"

Meanwhile, Prussia pulled out another empty chair and sat back, resting his legs on the neighboring table to enjoy the full-on brawl between two bound men occurring right before his eyes. He twirled his silver revolver along his fingers, shaking his head in disbelief and snickering in pure delight and contentment at all that was unfolding right in front of him.

"Best home invasion yet."

::::::::::::::::::::

The lonely cherry tomato rolled around aimlessly along the plate as the fork in his hand continued teasing it about. Today's was just another lonely lunch preceded by a just as lonely breakfast. Just when Italy came home upset and in tears the other day, his brother was ready in his coat and on his way out to spend a few days at Spain's home. It never really bothered him much to leave his little brother alone and heartbroken, so he just went his merry way. With his brother gone, Italy's past couple of days had been spent in loneliness and destitution, wallowing in his own pain and confusion in this great big house of his.

Where did his heart really lie?

This beautiful blonde girl he had miraculously woken up to just about a month ago is so captivating, so alluring, she is so...so _Germany_. Why only since then had he come to treat Germany so amorously? Was it solely because he had become a girl? A painful thought that was for him. Because if he really were in love with this mysterious blonde, blue-eyed girl, the day Germany finds the cure or the solution to return to the way he was, he will inevitably be left heartbroken. He could never have her. Not only that, the last thing he would want to do is cause Germany any more pain than he already does just from being around him. Just as it was difficult and confusing for him, it must be just as so with Germany, considering her own unfamiliarity with love. For each kiss he planted on her lips and for each time he pulled her body close to his, it was as if he prodded her heart and beat its contents from the inside until it became completely scrambled. Of course she would notice this sudden change in his behavior, although the question still remains as to why she hadn't stopped him earlier. Whatever her case may be for putting up with it for so long, nonetheless, he had no right to befuddle her heart so much. This thought alone compelled him to seek reestablishment of his feelings—it truly was a painful thought for him to possibly be in love someone he knew he could never have, just as it was to hurt his closest and most beloved friend to begin with.

But did he really love Germany?

That was his true challenge. The answer to such an enigma was much more difficult to come by than initially perceived. He had to dig deep into his heart and ignore those vivid visions of the blonde, blue-eyed girl that incessantly reappeared to him almost teasingly and deridingly. She was almost beckoning to him, coaxing his heart out for her own to lock up forever. That girl was a temptress. He needed to ignore her completely, but it was difficult. So difficult...so...

His eyes opened for a moment—he never even realized they had drifted to a close in deep thought. As he opened them, he found himself looking down and fingering the iron cross around his neck. _Germany_...Germany had given this to him. It served as a sign of their pact, their truce, their friendship. He had instantly forgotten about the temptress pulling him into the bed of seduction and in his mind reappeared that innocent pinky promise they had made for each other along the countryside some time ago. Yes, they were certainly good friends. Great friends, actually. Italy cared for Germany very much—that much he could figure out. But was there more to it? Had there ever been more to it? Whenever he was around him, he felt so safe and protected. Although multiple times Germany himself had been the cause of some of Italy's cuts and bruises, it was all because of his own hard-headedness and constant disregard to his advice and admonitions. Those same admonitions have tried so hard to keep him from getting killed. Countless times, Germany had to risk his own life just to save his. When was the last time anyone had ever been kind enough to be his hero? It felt like long ago if there were anyone at all. Didn't he have a hero once? Kind of think of it, Germany did actually look a lot like...

A palm slammed itself against the kitchen counter, the rattling of the plate echoing all around his kitchen. Italy repressed a sob threatening to claw out of his throat. He shouldn't be thinking about _him_. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about _him_. He loved him, of course he loved him. He loved him _so_ much...But he isn't Germany...or at least that was what he chose to believe. The resemblance was something he noticed long ago, but he wasn't one to dwell in the past. He certainly didn't want to love Germany as a reflection of his yearning for someone else who had long been gone from his life. Hands met his face as he groaned in confusion and despair. Great—what he needed was just one more person to come to memory and befuddle his heart. Somehow, his heart had led him yearning for two figures: his first love and his lady love, neither of which were really Germany. He seemed to be going around in circles.

Why was this so _difficult_?

Italy's pensive trance was broken by the sound of the front bell ringing frantically followed by an urgent rapping at the front door. He lifted himself up in wonder before making his way to the front door from the kitchen. Had Romano come home early and forgot his house key? Did he have a visitor he completely forgot about? Ah, whoever it may be, he couldn't just leave them hanging at his doorstep regardless of his contagious melancholy. He paid little heed to the urgency rapping against his door and made it there in slow Latin-paced strides, his fingers eventually reaching for the chain and locks on his door. Once he began unlocking his door, the rapping and the ringing of the bell had stopped—the visitor probably realized that the door was about to be opened soon enough. He pulled on the door knob, his door slowly creaking open, yet he could barely do so much as even raise his eyes to his visitor.

"_Si, buon giorno…_" he softly greeted the unknown visitor, his despondency already leaking through his sun-kissed features.

When he was lacking a response for more than five seconds, he couldn't help but finally look up, just to make sure that he had actually opened the door to a human being and that the urgent rapping he heard just moments ago was not a fit of his imagination working to haunt him. Upon looking up, he was immediately met and transfixed by the most striking and most familiar pair of crystal-blue eyes staring back at him in the most intense and paralyzing gaze anyone had ever given him. She stood there, seemingly lost for words just from the sight of him, just as he was from the very striking sight of her. Those past three or so days that they haven't seen each other felt more like an excruciatingly long eternity for the both of them, and now that they've met once more, they are unsure of what words should be shared first. Italy was not even sure if this moment were reality or his own delirium taking effect. Those past days he had not seen her felt like a century-long drought—the beautiful woman standing before him may as well be a mirage, ready to disappear after a single step forward or an outreach of a hand. However, the best decision at the moment, if there were any at all, was to back off—for all he knew, the temptress had probably come to whisk him away. She might just swallow him whole. Considering how his thoughts haven't really settled yet, he was unsure whether he should let her control him or if he should close the door on her and flee immediately. She seemed dangerous to him right now.

From the slightly strained look on Germany's face, she looked like she had so much inside of her that's waiting to burst out, but she couldn't let them go for some reason. She swallowed noticeably, attempting to be rid of all hindrances that prevented her from finding her voice.

"Ge-Germany…?" Italy finally croaked, deciding against fleeing her presence—that idea alone was difficult enough to grasp considering how much he longed for her at that moment. His throat felt so parched all of a sudden that the single utterance of her name came out as a raspy murmur travelling through thin air.

Although Italy's voice only came out as a hoarse whisper, it still reached her ears nonetheless, and it proved to be enough to drive her into immediate action. She forcibly pushed forward in a fit of urgency and impatience, pushing the unsuspecting Italian back into his empty house. The door was immediately shut behind them and a heavy thud filled the air, followed by Italy's back making rough contact with the door behind him. He looked all around him—his surroundings just seemed to be rushing by within that past millisecond—and found himself caged on either side by olive-covered arms. He suddenly felt a wave of fear overcome him as he shrunk back before the penetrating scrutiny of her crystal-blue irises. Maybe he should have fled her presence. Because from the look of things, the temptress really might just eat him alive, devour his heart and take it for her own.

Germany suddenly found herself breathing harder than usual, as if she had just returned from a five-kilometer long run. From the increasingly frightened look spreading across Italy's face, she figured she only had so much time to explain herself. Time was precious, above all.

"I need to know…" she managed to harshly croak out.

Behind maroon eyes, confusion emerged. "V-Ve…?"

She inhaled sharply. "T-Tell me the truth already!"

"The truth about what?" he choked, trying to buy more time. He still didn't have a solid answer...

"Stop playing around…" she whispered through gritted teeth. Italy was struggling to hold back a sob—he was so afraid of her at the moment. Germany took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, so that she could calm herself just a little bit more and frighten the poor boy a little less. "How—" she began with a stutter. "Ho-How do you…erm—really feel about…me?"

It was like having to take a pop quiz he never got to study for. Germany was pressuring him to answer a question he desperately needed more time to think about. He wasn't ready, not now. "I...don't know..." he slowly responded, his voice low and remorseful.

Immediately, she tensed greatly, her face scrunched in an expression of utter frustration. She could feel her teeth grinding painfully along her jaw. "Stop playing around! You can't just tell me you don't know!"

She stared at him for a moment to determine any reaction to her words, but his gaze had only fallen to the floor—he felt unable to handle her piercing blue eyes any longer. He was still attempting to make sense out of all this as she pressured him to come to a conclusion. "…I know you well enough, Italy. I knew that being what I had become made you so happy that I was willing to let it drag on for a while…but I just can't take it anymore—it's…" Her voice began to break a little. "It's tearing me apart, you know? And after all that I had to endure just to satisfy your love for women, you expect me to just quietly take it when you say you don't know how you really feel about me?"

He said nothing. His hands clenched into fists, shame coursing through him. All this time he had been hurting her—she had been hurting all this time just to make him happy. He couldn't believe himself.

She turned away from him and shook her head in disbelief of all that this had come down to. It was probably best to just get it over with fast—rip the bandage away and make the pain sharp but brief. "Just admit it already..." She choked on her words for a moment. "...You're in love with Lucia—you want nothing to do with Ludwig."

His weak fist rammed at the door behind him. "No!" he retorted with much more duress than he intended. He wasn't ready to admit it—he would never be ready to break her heart so callously. But what to tell her? "That's..." His voice dwindled down to a weak whisper. "...That's not true..."

"Then tell me what _is_ true."

Chewed-on nails scratched against the door against his back as he struggled to find the truth within him. In no time, his teeth began chewing softly on his bottom lip in anxiety. What to tell her? Germany stared at him, relaxing herself slightly so as to give him more room to breathe and ponder over what she wanted of him, but her patience could only be stretched so far. When she decided the boy was taking far too long pondering over the matter—he almost seemed to be stalling—she tensed again in anger.

"Italy..." she seethed with impatience.

The poor boy gulped audibly. She demanded an answer _now_. He could at least start off with something he knew for sure. "I...care about you."

She stared at him, discontented with his words. "I really do care about you, Germany. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt, but...I still managed to hurt you in the end."

Her eyes softened in a brief flash of sympathy. "I-I'm really sorry," he choked, unable to hold back his emotions any longer. "I...I really don't think I'm in love with just Lucia—please believe me, Germany!" he pleaded with her, his eyes finally raising themselves to meet with hers, wide and glistening with regret and fear. "I don't want to be in love with that girl," he added, shaking his head rapidly to prove his distaste for the idea. "I-I don't even know who she is! The only one I really know is Ludwig—Lucia is just a stranger!"

She sighed quietly, her body relaxing once more at the seeming validity of his words, but she still wasn't satisfied. "A stranger _you_ made up," she whispered with subtle bitterness. She sighed deeply. "Even if you aren't in love with her, you definitely must be in lust with—" She swallowed a little. "—w-with her body...with this body, per say..."

He slowly shook his head in disagreement, also pondering over whether he really was just in lust with her curves and her supple, milky skin. He refused to believe so. "I don't want to look at it that way...Germany, you know me—you know I wouldn't go after a girl for sex. I do it just for the chase."

Her eyes narrowed. "I hate the way you worded that," she harshly replied, finding the idea of women being used as trophies to be repulsive and immoral.

"N-No, wait a minute..." He was afraid he could only be making this worse. He needed to fix this and get to the point fast, wherever or whatever that point may be, or else it would all just fall apart completely. "Please don't look at me as a sexist pig that's only after sex! You know I'm not like that!" he shook his heads and his hands rapidly in an effort to prove his innocence of the implications. She knew he really wasn't like that—she was just being spiteful of his indecisiveness for the moment, or so she reasoned with herself. From the softening of her features, he decided to continue. "I don't want to look at it as being in lust." His eyes began drifting around him, trying to piece his words carefully and cohesively—understanding was of vital importance right now.

"I think...I'm just...naturally more lax around girls. Don't you think so too, Germany?"

She shook her head, befuddlement all along her brow as she sneered at the lack of sense he was making. "What does that have to do you with you and your feelings for me?" she roughly asked of him, growing increasingly impatient with his beating around the bush.

Nervousness shook his body once more. "W-What I'm trying to get at is...well, I mean, I used to hug you all the time as a guy, didn't I? I think I do more with Lucia just because...well, I'm more comfortable and easygoing around girls." He shrugged sheepishly and paused for a moment, carefully selecting the words he would be using for his next point. "Germany is...very scary a lot of the time, so...I wouldn't find it to be as easy to kiss and touch Ludwig the way I do with Lucia...So if I weren't so scared of you, Germany, I'd probably would have done the same things...?"

Germany was left slightly dumbfounded at his reasoning—something about it seemed so similar to what her brother had reasoned with her. She kept her eyes on him, testing the fidelity of his words. "Would you really?" she asked him skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes shifted around in thought for a little bit before shrugging in total acceptance of the idea. "I really don't see why not..."

In all honesty, she couldn't see why he wouldn't do it, either. He got pretty close during the days when he was still normal and male—jumping in showers with him, jumping in bed with him, showering him in hugs and kisses. But it bothered her how he couldn't get himself to show the same amount of affection before just because she was "scary." Her eyes softened as one arm slid down from the door to hang limply by her side. She looked away in slight embarrassment. "Am I...really that scary to you?" she asked him bashfully.

Italy pouted a little, feeling bad that he had offended her. "O-Only sometimes," he answered cautiously in an effort to lift her self-esteem just a little. "B-But that's what makes Germany who he is! So...it still makes me happy."

Her eyes lifted to meet his and she was immediately met with a small but sincere smile along his apple cheeks. It was so hard to stay mad at him, but she still needed a better answer—he was still beating around the bush. Her mind suddenly wandered to that previous day, just before she had violently tried pushing him away. She successfully interrupted those words that were just about to crawl out of his lips.

"That other day, Italy," she spoke in a low voice, the memory slightly stinging her. "You were about to say something."

It was hard to forget that day, so he immediately knew what she was referring to. He knew it, too—those words were begging to be spilled. But would he have really meant those words? She stared him down, bringing her other arm back on the door beside his face, caging him again. She needed to hear those words straight from his mouth and see for herself if he would flinch or show any other sign of fallacy. She gulped.

"W-What were you...about to say that time?"

Blue orbs were piercing right through him—she was testing him. He was so ready to say it during that time of so much emotional havoc, but if he tried it again this time, would he be ready to confess those words to her? Those few and simple words were of such great weight and responsibility. The moment he uttered those words, he would be unable to take them back. Was he ready and willing to brave such a responsibility? If he was willing to make this pact with her in the first place, he figured he should be able to handle such a new level of intimacy, trust, and responsibility. Oh, so many expectations...He inhaled deeply.

"I love you."

Italy could have sworn he saw those blue orbs dilate in shock of such heavy words having come out of his mouth so smoothly. He was even surprised with himself over how smoothly those words flowed through and out of his tongue. There was no taking them back now. But he really didn't want to take them back—he was actually ecstatic that he had finally uttered them, as if a great weight had been lifted off his back. He inhaled subconsciously in utter relief. It actually felt euphoric. Maybe those really were his true feelings. Why he had been so apprehensive to even believe in those words, he wasn't quite sure, but he was certainly glad he had finally come to admit them. Now, all was left to Germany—would she believe any of it? Her eyes continued to pierce through him, despite the obvious relief and happiness that coursed behind his relaxed features. Her heart actually leapt with joy, but her mind was still skeptical and suspicious. To have such a powerful expression spoken with so very little effort made no sense to her—she had such a hard time admitting it to herself, it just bothered her how Italy could admit it so easily. Her mind was just not ready to accept it.

"Ve...Germany?" he asked apprehensively, extremely worried that after how honestly he had expressed those three words, she still would not believe him or accept him.

She pursed her lips and exhaled slowly through her nose, placing a hand on her hip in contemplation of what course of action to take in response to his confession. As quickly as her blue eyes had shot him a glare, her hand shot up and instantly grabbed for that rogue curl innocently bouncing around, evoking a sharp gasp from the unsuspecting boy.

"Wha—Germany! Not there!" he pleaded shakily, but to no avail—she only yanked harder just to keep him from speaking anymore. She didn't want to hear anymore mind-boggling nonsense coming from his mouth.

"Do you know how much emotional turmoil I had to go through just to come to this crazy conclusion that I might actually be in love with you, too? And you—you who flirts with practically every girl you come across—you have the audacity to tell me you _love _me? Just like that?"

"B-But Germany...I—" His arms reached out against hers to try and push her away, but it only resulted in her tugging even harder, making him gasp sharply for breath.

"God," she snarled bitterly. "It's always so easy for you—why is it so easy for you? There's no way you could have said that so easily. It must be because of Lucia, isn't it? This damn bitch is driving me up a wall..."

"No, Germany! You're wrong, I—_ahh..._"

Her mouth started running uncontrollably, spewing words she never really meant, throwing a tantrum purely of spite. "I wish this just never happened. That I had ever sprouted these large obstructions, or that you had ever given me those red roses a long time ago, or that you were always around kissing and hugging and acting weird around me—if none of that had ever happened, I wouldn't be standing here taking my anger out on you because I don't think I'm meant for any of this! I can't take it! And you're not making any sense—how could you love me so easily? I won't stand for any of it—"

Italy couldn't take it anymore—she yanked mercilessly at his curl, wracking his nerves with an unbearable intensity he could no longer fight off.

"_Lu...Ludwig..._"

The sound of her name suddenly reached her ears in the middle of her tantrum, bringing her to a sudden halt in words and movement to shoot him a scrutinizing stare—did he just..._moan_ her name out?

"...What the hell was that just now?"

"Ve...ve...G-Germany..." he breathed out, softly gripping her arm that was holding him captive.

Her eyes examined the expression on his face. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes softly screwed shut, his breathing was a little stinted—she was suddenly struck with worry. Had she hurt him again? She really had to stop doing that during her fiery fits of rage and denial.

"I-Italy...Are you okay?" she asked him. He slowly blinked his eyes open, his vision still cloudy and unfocused. Before him stood a blue-eyed angel—her slightly parted lips looked so soft and inviting, the soft contours along her worried brow left her glowing in a promise of gentleness. It reminded him of mornings when he would wake up to Ludwig in his bedside—the way his hair fell out of place when he lifted himself up and the way his blue eyes would gleam against the seeping sunlight in efforts of adjusting. How he loved waking up to such a sight every morning. Italy was trying so hard to hold himself back, but it was already too late—her ignorance, carelessness, and extremely pressuring demands had already set his blood ablaze. Before him stood his only source of mitigation.

In a steadily rising panic, her hand finally left his strained curl, resulting in a very low whine that even her alert ears couldn't catch, only to gently place the both of them on either side of his face, tilting his head here and there so that she may examine for any signs of whatever it was that seemed to be ailing him. "Italy, speak to me! Are you okay?" she asked him again, taking a good look at both half-lidded eyes and feeling along his heated cheeks.

"Ve..." he managed to breathe out, bringing Germany to look up at him in utter concern.

"Hey...y-you're burning up...What's wrong—"

Before she could even get another word out of him, his hands suddenly shot out from beside him only to grip firmly at her slim waist straight ahead. She gasped at the sudden contact along her slightly delicate waistline, but was completely left in utter shock the moment he meshed their lower halves together, his hips instantly colliding with hers. Her mouth hung agape, attempting to voice some sort of protest to his rash and slightly suggestive actions, but she couldn't find the words for it. If their extremely close proximity weren't enough to redden her cheeks, then the way the Italian began experimentally rolling his hips against hers made her burn in a fiery and destructive blaze. Although it played as a factor, it was not the rolling of his hips that set her body ablaze and her mind in an utter frenzy—there was certainly something hard pressing against her groin, and she was hoping he just had a very large roll of vintage coins hidden away in one of his front pockets.

As she factored everything together, her breathing instantly quickened in a shocking awareness—she was completely unprepared for this. In fact, such a situation was the _last_ thing she expected to happen. She was supposed to be here to get the truth out of him. How did it come to this? What the hell did she do to cause this? Was it all because he had finally confessed his "love" to her? Dear God, she really hoped that wasn't the reason why he was suddenly in heat. That would only drown her hopes of the potential fidelity this relationship may actually hold. But it had also come to her realization of what it was he had wantonly breathed out just a moment ago—her _true _birth name. Not Lucia's, but Ludwig's. Italy moaned_ his_ name out. Now, the question that came to his mind was what it was exactly that elicited such a lustful voicing of his name from his lips. Whatever the reason may be for this sudden charge of heat in him, the fervent gyration of his hips against hers just suddenly felt so tempting and inviting.

While his body continued riling up in a heated frenzy, he rolled his hips against hers again and elicited a sharp and brief gasp from her while a breathy sigh escaped his lips. She couldn't imagine how her cheeks could get any redder than they were at the moment. Her hands pushed against his shoulders, trying to pry herself off of the boy, but even she was surprised at how weak her efforts had been. Was she actually even trying to put up a fight?

Meanwhile, the hands on her waist tightened their grip. "Germany..." he breathed out huskily. "I'm really sorry...I can't hold back any longer."

She was frantic, completely unaware of what she could have possibly done to cause all this. "I-I don't even know what I did to you..." she retorted, her voice sounding much too high and breathless than she is accustomed to.

"...Germany," he softly called out to her again, successfully grabbing her attention as her eyes met his again in a fit of mortification. What she immediately noticed was the small smile that now graced his handsomely flushed features as one hand reached up to gently stroke her heated and still slightly bruised cheek.

"...Italy...?" she voiced out in a nervous whisper.

"...You're just too cute."

The small hand on her face suddenly reached for her shoulder and pushed back, flipping their positions in one swift movement so that Germany's back was now the one pressed against a wall. She was completely unprepared for such a sudden move, but was even more so when Italy pressed his entire body flush against hers, meshing their mouths together in a sudden fit of passion and yearning. She unconsciously whimpered as his warm tongue instantly tangled with hers in a lustful and starved dance. Her hands were initially pushing against him in a small ounce of resistance, but they quickly found themselves fisting his hair in utter destitution. It felt like eons since she last felt his lips against hers, his body against hers, his hands all over her—it was much too difficult to stop this now. She breathed in every ounce of him as if her life depended on it, and he responded with just as much need and desperation. His mouth seemed to lack in sync with his body—while he concentrated on making her melt with his lips, his body seemed to move on its own, writhing into hers in an erratic effort to get closer, pinning her completely into the wall with such a crushing force. He couldn't get all the spaces filled. It just wasn't enough.

Mouths parted, the two of them gasping desperately for breath. Germany threw her head back into the wall, panting at the sudden heat of it all. Her mind was in a blur and could not maintain any sort of focus at the moment—everything was just registering much too slowly. Although her mind had become slow to register things, her body was extremely quick and eager to respond, writhing just as pruriently against his, immediately craning her neck when those ravenous lips latched themselves onto her pulse. Vibrations reverberated back onto his curious lips when a shaky whisper of his name softly shook the walls of her throat, leaving him to smile in satisfaction.

Wait, wait, wait...What were they _doing_?

It was already alarming enough how Italy managed to provoke such strong, carnal desires within her. It was of no argument that such reckless actions needed to be thought over carefully before they could further their intense fit of passion. Germany attempted to keep her eyes open and her focus steady, despite her fingers continuing to run gently through brown strands as lips laid sweetness on her skin. She gently tugged at his hair, trying to pull him away from her neck and back into rationality.

"I-Italy...wait a minute..." she breathily called to him. No good. Her eyes were falling to a close again. There was too much going on. She could feel his lips trailing from her pulse, all the way up and along her jaw line, kissing the cut on her cheek that was just on the verge of healing, up until they reached the shell of her ear, gently nipping and trailing his tongue, making her shiver involuntarily. The hot breath against her ear filled her with pure delight, but the words that came through brought her to open her eyes in total uncertainty.

"How about we see where this will lead us?" he whispered in her ear, lust and genuine curiosity laced in his voice.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** RAWR. SEXY TIMEZ A COMIN' YOUR WAY!

ah! the chapter title = "Truth" btw b/c that's all that it really comes down to. well, you guys, i got Prussia to smack a bitch, so i hope that home invasion scene satisfied you guys for the time being (: there's definitely more to come—i obviously can't leave the interrogation there, so expect some more beatings HURHUR.

does Italy's reasoning make sense btw? it makes sense that he'd be a little too afraid to go so far with Ludwig, but it's much easier for him to have a go with "Lucia", don't you think so? and of course, you guys have been suspicious since the very beginning about the integrity of his "love," so that plays a factor in why Germany is so upset right now. good job, girls~ you really know how to spot a shallow douchebag from miles away ;D I'm just trying to prove that our beloved and adorable little Feli is _not_ that shallow douchebag ;P and a lot tends to be revealed when you're caught up in the moment anyway *snicker*

the conflict between them was a little difficult for me to express in words—you guys certainly felt it, the emotion was a lot easier to convey, but it was a little hard to actually reason it out between them. i actually had a long discussion between my little sister (who's a shoujo expert), her boyfriend, and me about such a hypothetical situation—it basically falls around the lines of "if ever you fall in love with your best friend, how would you admit it?" in much simpler terms. BAH, however way it ended up, in all honesty, i just really wanted to get to the hot make-up sex already (-3-)/ you know what i'm gonna have so much fun with? ...the fact that they're still both virgins. HURHUR. ;'D

goodness, and how i manage to update so fast even after school had already started is beyond me. i think the forthcoming sex is really motivating me...*ahem* erm—anyway! i hope it doesn't seem too rushed at this point—i'd love to take my time on it a little more, but i have a feeling something is compelling me to rush through it now that the semester had already started. i'm thinking, while i still have time and the tests and HW haven't piled up all over me yet, i should finish this story quickly with a BANG. but where's the fun in that, right? i'll try to slow it down and just accommodate it with my schedule somehow :P so far, so good, right? :D

please let me know~ for all who have been reading, thank you! and to the many others who actually loved it enough to read from beginning to current chapters, i love you guys just as much~!


	13. Skin

**Chapter 13 – Skin**

That sweet voice, hot and heavy in her ear, filled her with so much excitement that it became difficult to contain. Italy nipped at her earlobe and all along the shell of her ear. "Germany..." he breathed out desperately. "Let me make love to you..."

Germany had to repress groaning from all this rising excitement, but a small mewl managed to find its way through. From the way Italy continued to vehemently grind against her upon hearing that pleasant little noise, it obviously didn't do her any benefit. Despite their growing need for more skin and more touch, she really felt they needed to stop and think about this first. After all those abstinence lectures her brother had forced her into, she should at least make them worth the pain and suffering. "Italy..." she breathily called out to him, tugging his hair back a second time—she was extremely careful to ensure that his name did not come out as a wanton moan like hers did out of his mouth. Against her grip, she felt his head suddenly tilt and dip back down, assaulting her with wet, open-mouthed kisses up along her throat, making her eyes flutter near total abandon.

No—focus was key at the moment. Her eyes shot back open, and with all the strength she had left that hadn't dissipated from her system, she brought her hands to his shoulders and pushed the amorous boy back with a great—almost excessive—amount of force, catching him in surprise. They stared at each other at arm's length distance, confusion and worry written behind the Italian's eyes. He was certainly hoping he hadn't angered her or gone too far with her. She pursed her lips, hesitation hid behind her crystal-blue irises, her cheeks still dusted over with a light sheen of pink—she almost regretted she made him stop loving her for a moment, but the forthcoming discussion was absolutely necessary.

Her mouth opened, but the words were a little delayed. "...What are we doing, Italy?"

His brow scrunched even further in apprehension. "Ve..."

"I...I came here to find out how you really feel about me—first you say you didn't know, then you say you love me, and now we're here and you're suddenly saying you want to _make love_ to me?"

He responded with silence. At the moment, it was more important for him to listen to everything that she had to tell him. She slowly and hesitantly shook her head, unable to find any good that could come out of their spontaneous and passionate fit. And it felt much too shallow for her to submit to such requests for intimacy so easily. The timing just seemed terrible. "I'm..." She paused for a moment, hesitant of her next words. "...I'm not sure if I want to continue like this," she softly told him, gently pushing him away even further. "I'm still not even sure if you really meant what you had told me earlier, so I don't think I should let it get this far...not yet, at least..."

Germany was really hoping all this wouldn't be followed by complaints or sobs of rejection and denial. Surprisingly, however, Italy remained silent, his eyes calm and composed towards her declination. A small smile suddenly graced his still flushed features, catching her a little off guard. "Believe me," he softly started off. "If I hadn't meant a single ounce of what I said earlier, I wouldn't have said it in the first place." Her eyes expressed a bit of confusion and surprise to the candor of his words. Italy then sighed in apparent defeat of the situation, softly placing his hands atop of hers to bring them off his shoulders. His large hazel eyes and his handsome smile looked so understanding.

"I would never push you to do something you wouldn't want to do, Germany."

Although his words seemed so touching at first, she had come to a brief realization that his words weren't exactly true. Her eyes began drifting around in a tiny ounce of incredulity, her memory flashing back to times when he would pull her in for their fiftieth cone of gelato, or when he begged and practically forced her to play football while she was engrossed in a particularly good read. She then scoffed comically. "Um, you actually _have _done that a couple of times," she rebuked him.

"Ve..." His eyes drifted upwards in thought, considering whether or not he had forced her into things before, and he foolishly concluded that he had definitely done so. He began scratching his head sheepishly. "Eh...I guess you're right," he chuckled bashfully, leaving her to roll her eyes at him.

"But still," he continued on, his expression suddenly reverting back to the seriousness he conveyed to her earlier. "I wouldn't force you to do something like this if you're not comfortable yet."

She stared back at him, slightly incredulous to this new level of maturity he was displaying to her. He smiled again, a hint of melancholy emanating from still slightly hazy eyes. "I guess I understand why you wouldn't believe me this time when I told you that I love you...Maybe when you turn back to normal, hopefully you would let me have a second chance to prove my love to you."

He slowly placed her hands back at her sides and began to head towards the kitchen as if nothing weird or dramatic had ever occurred within those past few minutes. "I hope you're not that mad at me anymore—we can probably enjoy some gelato for the afternoon, yeah?"

It was really easy for her to see how hard it must be for him to resist, and immediately she was washed over with an odd mixture of admiration and remorse. Out of all the times she had pushed Italy's limits, this was by far the best display of endurance he had shown her yet (for God's sake, he was walking away from her with a _hard on_). And although her mind found justification in their reasoning things over, she immediately regretted pushing him away. Everything just felt so blissful before her mind decided none of it was honest or moral. How could she not believe in his words? This very moment, he was being so considerate of her wellbeing that he actually resisted the tempting sweetness of their possibly making love. That thought alone provoked such a strong realization in her: she _yearned_ for him. He was ready to give himself to her, and she was just about let him walk away thinking that she was still untrusting of him? After all the painful arguments and confessions they had undergone just to get to such a climactic conclusion, there was no way she was going to let him walk away just like that. Whatever her mind insisted on was drowned out by her heart screaming out to her to bring him back into her arms.

"_Wait._"

Just as he was walking away, her arm shot up and immediately grabbed for his, taking him by surprise as she pulled him back towards her direction. After she got him to spin around and face her again, her other hand reached for the lacings on his white shirt, gripping in earnest as she slowly pulled him back closer to her. Both hands lifted and reached for his face, gently cupping either cheek, still radiating small amounts of heat from their previous and brief session of intimacy. She found her thumb instinctively running over the still slightly darkened blemish she had so shamefully inflicted upon him a couple of days ago, as if in hopes that her affection and remorse could somehow wash the damage away. Her eyes searched frantically for his, and he could instantly sense the longing behind her blue irises.

"Germany? What's wrong?" he asked her, curious as to what could be going through her mind at the moment.

Her lips began feeling a little dry, so she wet them for a moment—his taste still lingered and it tantalized her even further. She opened her mouth, but she was unsure of what words to use. _'I changed my mind—I want you now_'? If she had any pet peeves at all—and God knows she has many—one of them was inconsistency. So instead of resorting with words so shallow and indecisive, she decided to go with a simpler request.

"Kiss me."

Germany actually had to choke those words out at first—such a straightforward request completely washed her over with embarrassment. But it replenished her with another wave of desire. She wanted him _now_.

She noticed his eyes widen in slight shock and uncertainty. He licked his lips—she could tell he really wanted to acquiesce, but something looked to be holding him back. Italy thought she might be testing him again, trying to break him and see if he would really live up to his word of holding back until she was ready to believe him. The idea seemed a little cruel to him—Germany was one to place such cruel tests of endurance upon him, after all—but he was determined to resist her. If sacrificing such pleasures with her was all it took to win her love, then by God, he was ready to do it. He blankly stared back, seemingly unresponsive to such a tempting request.

The lack of a response could not fool her, however. The last thing she needed was any more misunderstandings and confusion, so she took the initiative and gave him a hint as the hands cupping his face slowly pulled him down closer to her own. He felt her hands guiding him and the action only confused him even more. Was she still testing him? Whatever the answer was, he was slowly losing track of it when her lips touched back down on his. For once, it was Germany who initiated their lip lock, and goodness gracious, it felt heavenly. She seemed a little bashful at first as she tried to mimic the same amount of heat Italy would radiate onto her, oddly moving her lips in peculiar puckers and tilting her head within intervals of literally five seconds in between. Of course she'd be anal about these little things, too. When her lips began to feel a little shaky from uncertainty, he decided to respond enthusiastically, just to let her know she was doing a very decent job for him. He managed to elicit a small sigh of relief from her before she pulled away momentarily.

She gulped, her cheeks reddened again to a glowing hue. "H-How was that...?" she asked him in a nervous and embarrassed stutter. Italy immediately smiled in response, but couldn't repress his still remaining curiosity over her sudden change of heart.

"I thought you didn't want any of me just yet."

"That—I...well..."

Oh, boy—how to explain herself now. Germany tried to reason her way out, but rather unsuccessfully as she began stuttering in her words.

"I-I didn't say that I didn't want you, or—"

"But I thought you didn't believe me?"

"E-Even if I don't believe you...I don't think it's very—umm..._polite_ of you to just walk away from a woman as if—a-as if nothing ever happened! And furthermore...uhh..." She was quickly running out of excuses, but meanwhile she failed to notice the Italian slowly stepping forward. She never even noticed herself backing up into that same space of wall he first pinned her down on until he finally had her caged all to himself. She looked up at him as he loomed over her, embarrassed over her failure to cover up her inconsistencies. A playful smirk tugged along his lips, causing her to squirm apprehensively.

"Ve...At least now you can say we talked about it first, right?" he asked her playfully.

She blushed even harder, but with that being said, there's no holding her back. "_Gott_, just kiss me already," she breathlessly demanded him as she yanked him by the shirt to claim his lips for her own.

Italy eagerly acquiesced, grinning madly as her lips met his in a messy open-mouthed kiss, struggling to take in his every breath. He had her pinned up against the wall again, mouthing her on the lips, neck, temple, wherever he could possibly reach for without hindering his travelling hands that have only begun to fumble with her double-breasted jacket—too many buttons he needed to deal with at the moment. While Italy fumbled with the brass buttons along her chest and stomach, reveling in the depth of her contours as he went, she attempted to be of benefit to him, nipping experimentally at his ear whenever she could reach it while her hands ran all along from his hair all the way down his back, occasionally grasping his rear just for the fun of the game.

Just when he finally had that last button undone, Germany mindlessly fingered through his hair and managed to massage against the base of his curl, bringing him into another shuddering fit as he groaned heedlessly against her now exposed collarbone. When that delightful sound reached her ears, she began pondering over how she could elicit such wonderful noises out of him. She examined her movements that moment—one hand was planted on one cheek of his rear-end and the other was fisting his hair. She gave the former a test as she eagerly squeezed its roundness, but such only resulted in a low hum of approval and an innocent peck on the juncture between her neck and her shoulder. She tried her hand along his hair this time, fingering through and trying to discover his sensitive spots. That same hand still remained around that blasted curl of his, so she didn't have to wander off very far before she had him moaning in the crook of her neck again, her curious fingers innocuously brushing against the bouncing strand of rogue hair. She looked down at the panting boy pressed against her with much incredulity as she yanked at his curl again—Italy only responded with a sudden thrust of his hips against hers, making her gasp in surprise.

It's confirmed, then.

Germany concluded with bewilderment that this curl must be his ultimate weak spot. Of course, she knew well before how weak it made him—such was the primary reason why she always used it to her advantage and successfully kept him quiet, but looking back on the numerous times she would do this to his curl, she blushed beet red at the implications of it all. Numerous times she had been assaulting his senses with outpours of pleasure just as she was doing to him at this moment, and she would be so oblivious to it all.

"Why haven't you told me about this?" she growled at him in a mix of embarrassment and excitement towards the discovery, yanking incessantly at his curl just for the pleasure of listening to his heavy panting.

"Ve...ve...Everytime I—_ahh_...try to...tell you...hnn...you keep pu-pulling at it, s-so...I lose my voice..._haaa_..."

She shook her head in comic disbelief, her hand jerking suggestively at the rogue strand of hair. "All this time, just to get you to shut up, _this_ was what I've been doing to you?"

"_Germany~_" he whined. "It always felt so good...it was torture how much I always had to hold back..."

"You don't have to hold back anymore," she whispered to him.

"_Grazie a Dio_," he breathed out as he finally yanked her olive jacket off of her shoulders and off of her body completely, leaving her in just one article less of clothing for him to fumble with. Beneath that jacket was a black tee that draped delicately over her curves and her iron cross around her neck—those were surely easy to be rid of and can wait until later. In brisk movements, he jerked her by the arms away from the wall and threw her onto a nearby coffee table, holding back enough force to keep from breaking or bruising anything or anyone. Germany felt her back make contact with the coffee table as a thud reached her ears, but any pain she felt and any complaints she had for the reckless Italian were brushed away when he immediately hovered over her and assaulted her neck with much ardor, his fingertips brushing teasingly beneath her tee and along her stomach. A soft but high moan reached her ears as she threw her head back onto the wood for the Italian boy to devour.

Although they were both too caught up in ever-increasing titillation to rationalize over every little aspect of their passionate fit, Germany couldn't help but feel bothered over their current location. Just when she was about to protest, Italy positioned himself between her legs, grinding on her vehemently, sending jolts from her hips all the way up her spine and leaving the poor, defenseless table creaking and squeaking—even the coffee table began protesting. She decided if they didn't reposition themselves somewhere else immediately, they may just end up destroying some good furniture in the process. Other than that, there was no way she was about to allow her virginity to be lost on top of a damn coffee table—she's going to make sure they did this properly.

"I-Italy..." she gasped, the increasing pools of heat between her legs distracting her immensely. "Not...Not here," she weakly growled in his ear.

The boy stopped his movements, much more to her disappointment than approval, and lifted himself up to look down at her in worry. "Ve...?" he breathed out, still softly panting in heat. He instantly received a glare from her piercing blue eyes—a weak and hazy glare, but a glare nonetheless.

"G-Germany? What's wrong?" he asked nervously, taking his hands out from underneath her tee to place them on either side of the table.

She got up, leaned on her elbows, and sighed in exasperation, slightly annoyed how she had to explain why she stopped his heated touches. "Can we...not do it here? You know..." Her fist began knocking at the wood beneath them. "...on the coffee table?" He gave her a blank stare, causing her to blush in annoyance over her next choice of words. "I...don't want to be broken on a broken coffee table..." she told him slowly and with much humiliation to how odd those words sounded to her ears.

A blithe chuckle immediately filled the air in response to her odd words. "Of course we're not gonna to do it _here_," Italy assured her, eliciting a sigh of relief from the flushed girl underneath him. "Besides," he added, his voice lowering to a whisper as he leaned in to nip at her earlobe. "I wouldn't want to lose my virginity on a coffee table, either."

She shivered lightly at the delightful feel of his lips along her ear, her eyes fluttering in heaviness. "Not to mention I wouldn't want to have to buy you a new coffee table," she weakly added.

"Don't worry, Germany," he giggled. "Well, then..." He raised himself off of her slightly and immediately surprised her with a set of straightforward directions. "Wrap your legs around me."

Her brow scrunched for a millisecond. "Excuse me?"

She felt one arm wrapping around her back and the other dragging down the back of her thigh—almost teasing her—to bend her knee and wrap her leg around his waist. "Wrap your legs around me," he repeated in a husky tone, leaving her suddenly willing to acquiesce to odd requests. Just after she reluctantly wrapped her legs around his waist, his hand directed her arms to wrap around his shoulders.

"Okie dokie~ Now..." He paused for a moment to make sure his arms were properly wrapped around her delicate body. "...hold on tight, okay?"

"What?" she asked in alarm to his request.

Germany wasn't given enough time to ponder over such directions as Italy immediately lifted her and himself off the table in brisk movements, holding onto her body with much care as she gasped in shock and sudden anxiety. It seemed more like Germany was grappling onto him than he was carrying her as he started walking—with vivid flashbacks to when he last lifted her in this same house and the way he toppled over after some time, of course she'd be worried at the moment. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, so she didn't have to worry about accidentally strangling him, but her legs instinctively cinched around his waist almost painfully. The subtle feel of asphyxiation around his diaphragm from the iron-grip of her lean legs only increased his adrenaline rush—his mind was suddenly assaulted with vivid fantasies, lewd images of Germany wrapping those same lithe legs around him as he left her writhing in ecstasy. One of his hands dragged beneath her thighs until they reached her bottom, giving a cheek a firm squeeze, evoking sharp protests from the girl grappling him. He needed to get her in his bed immediately.

While Italy fantasized about her in brisk strides towards his bedroom, she held onto him for dear life, praying that he wouldn't topple over the same way he did last time. A great wave of relief spread through her when they completely evaded the staircase and headed instead to a door that led them outdoors—thank goodness, his bedroom mustn't be on the second floor (she was hoping against the slimmest chance that it may be located in a shack in his vineyards or something). As they walked through an illuminated outdoor hallway of arches and hanging plants, the glow of the afternoon sun relaxed her just a little bit more. When he felt her relax her grip on him, he gently spoke in her ear, "Ve...Trust me—I won't let go of you."

Passion and adulation suddenly washed through her at the gentleness of his words, and compelled her to express such with needy kisses and nips all along his neck and his ear. It felt impossible for Italy to continue walking while she assaulted him with these affectionate attacks. Although his bedroom door was literally just another step away, these kisses were making him completely weak in the knees and he definitely didn't want to topple over a second time and risk her getting hurt. Italy took a break right beside his bedroom door and slammed her back onto an adjacent wall, immediately attacking her with a lustful open-mouthed kiss. He breathed in every sigh of approval, relishing in the feel of her fingers fisting his hair and her pelvis grinding wantonly into his stomach. She was hot and needy—she could feel the need pooling in her groin as she sought for delicious friction from his stomach. Italy had come to realize how wild Germany could be—neither of them had any experience, and yet here she was succumbing completely in carnal desire. Seeing her come undone was so extremely alluring to him. His bedroom was just another step away—he needed her in there _now_.

While his mouth meshed uninterruptedly with hers, his hand reached for the doorknob beside him, twisted it and pushed the door wide open. Upon hearing the quick creaks of his wooden door, he pushed himself off the wall and practically ran inside with her still grappling onto him and assaulting his neck with hot kisses, sighing in his ear in heavy anticipation. His brisk movements could barely register through her hazy senses, but her eyes shot open with a gasp when she felt herself falling swiftly onto an expanse of softness with a delicious weight atop her. She lethargically looked around her, examining her surroundings in a haze as he mouthed mindlessly at her already speckled neck. The afternoon sun partially seeped into his room of soft and simple accents through a large and open window framed in the sides with beige drapes, leaving it bathed in a gentle glow. Somewhere in the distance, she saw a jar atop his dresser filled with white flags, to which she rolled her eyes in incredulity and partial pleasure of his lips behind her ear. She let go of his shoulders and spread her arms across his bed. Although his room was altogether simple, his bed felt extravagantly large. Did he really spend his nights alone in this large bed? No wonder he often snuck into her sheets overnight unannounced. As she tentatively unwrapped her legs from his waist and planted her feet onto the bed, she abruptly stopped, realizing that her boots were still laced on. She leaned on her elbows and lifted herself off the bed in worry that she may soil his sheets. Meanwhile, now that they had successfully made it to his bed without breaking any bones, Italy felt no inclination to stop his affection despite her sudden movement.

"Hey," she called out to him in a soft breath. "Italy, wait a second." She began pushing gently against his shoulder. He pulled away from her with an impatient pout.

"Ve..." he whined pitifully, growing impatient with this constant stopping and starting again. "Germany, what is it?"

"My boots," she pointed out as she weakly began leaning over to reach for its laces. "I don't want to put my boots on your sheets—I'll get them dirty..." The way she was always so worried about all these little insignificant things during a time of unbearable heat struck him as a little tedious, but he also thought it extremely adorable and as expected of Germany. He wouldn't have it any other way.

His arm reached for her hand to stop her movements. He raised himself up and gently pushed her back down, refusing to allow her any more trouble. She narrowed her eyes at him, thinking that he didn't care too much about his sheets being soiled, although that wouldn't surprise her much. Instead, he backed up a little and planted his feet back on the floor, partially hovering over her stomach and further down as his hands dragged down her leg until they reached for the top of her military boots.

"Ve...let me do it for you, _signorina_" he offered kindly as his fingers began the tedious process of unlacing her military boots. She lifted her upper half up partially, leaning back on both arms as she watched over him. The scene instantly reminded her of their first date together as his "girlfriend" when he blatantly forbade her to walk any longer in her lethal oxfords. After having come a long way from then and now—they practically leaped way ahead after the drama that had occurred earlier—it all seemed like innocent flirtations back then, the way he soothed her sore feet and massaged her with much delicacy and affection. This time, they've advanced to a brand new level of intimacy: he was just beginning the process of undressing her, and the very thought sent shivers down her spine in a mix of virgin bashfulness and heavy anticipation.

Italy had successfully unlaced the first boot and slowly removed it off her foot along with her sock. With one hand, he lifted her foot and placed a deft kiss upon it before moving on to the next boot. He was going so tantalizingly slow, much too slowly for her taste. Despite her tendencies for speed and efficiency, she was actually grateful that he was taking everything so slowly at the moment. Rushing through it could probably only have made her even more nervous and uncertain. Besides, the excruciating pace only left her in an impetuous rush of desire as she waited for him to move on the rest of her clothing.

As his fingers slowly worked through her second set of laces in his usual Latin pace, his big brown eyes suddenly rose to meet her crystal-blue ones in a wistful gaze which left her in self-consciousness. Feeling the heat of embarrassment rising up to her already flushed cheeks, she tore away from his gaze in timidity. As he held her gaze on her flushed cheeks, taking his time to linger on the mars inflicted upon them from a few days ago, and the marks that have only begun to form along her neck, he finally had the second boot undone, slowly slipping it off with her sock. The thudding sound of her last boot brought her attention back to him with a piqued glare.

"Don't just throw my things around your room like they're—ah..."

She stopped short when he began dragging his hands up her olive pants, along her thighs, until his fingers finally reached her belt buckle. His eyes were still on hers, this time as if asking for permission to continue. She reddened madly at the thought of the forthcoming series of events, biting softly at her bottom lip in preparation of his next move.

"Germany...we don't have to do this now," he suddenly advised her, his voice low and uncharacteristically serious.

Her brow furrowed slightly in consideration of his words. Italy was right; they didn't have to do this now. The two of them were more than capable of waiting this out before they could go any further. She recalled his willingness to wait until she returned back to normal before they could go all the way, but with further thought, she had come to realize that it was probably best if they had done it now, this time and this way as it was meant to be done. If they waited until then, neither of them could possibly guarantee that it would just be as pleasurable.

She released her weight on her arms and gently lowered herself back down onto his bed sheets as her hand reached for his on her buckle with a touch that beckoned him to continue. "It's probably best if we do this now," she answered him. It bothered her a little how rushed her response sounded to her ears. She felt Italy tense beneath her touch. Why he chose to be apprehensive now of all times, she didn't know.

"Ve...I don't want to hurt you..."

She sighed—her eyes were glued to the ceiling framed by the iron canopy caging his bed. "If you wait until then, someone is surely going to get hurt," she replied with deeper implications. It was uncertain who it would be, but if they tried this again later on, someone would surely get hurt in the process. Italy knew it, also—he would feel shallow if he chose to make love to her now, but he knew that it would not be as easy if he waited for Ludwig to return to the way he was. When she felt his hands remain idle for another few seconds, she rose off of the mattress and leaned into him, catching him in slight surprise as she met him with a deep and reassuring kiss, one hand brushing soothingly along the nape of his neck. After pulling away, her fingers lingered on his nape while her blue eyes held onto his brown ones as she gave a single nod of approval to him. "It's alright," she whispered against his lips before lowering herself back down to let him continue his job. Italy was more than grateful that she would be gracious enough to let him make love to her as a woman. But even if he knew how much more complicated it would be to make love as men, he wouldn't be too hesitant to commit to the idea, either.

The moment her back touched the mattress, she felt his fingers finally fumbling with her belt buckle. The swift movement of his fingers made it seem like he really wanted her pants off already, but made attempts in hindering his impetuousness so as to savor the moment. The jingling of her buckle and the sound of unzipping reached her ears, leaving her to shut her eyes and lean into the soft sheets in a sudden burst of meekness. She couldn't keep from looking away once she heard Italy call her name again.

"Germany...Lift your hips a little, please?" he asked shyly, his fingers already hooked onto the belt loops of her pants. She swallowed a little in delightful anticipation before acquiescing to his gentle requests. On cue, Italy gently tugged at her belt loops and slowly the rest just followed. She watched him the entire time, her chest heaving pleasantly as his curious hands slowly worked to heighten her excitement. His eyes followed after his hands, taking in every little inch of milky skin that lay furthered exposed to him in every passing second as he uncovered her long, lean legs. The tip of his tongue slowly darted out to lick at his lips which have suddenly gone dry somehow, and the sight made her tremble slightly—his voracity was very easy to see.

After what felt like an excruciating eternity, he finally pulled off one pant leg after another and threw the hindering material somewhere off the side, completely exposing her bottom half, save for the cute pair of lace burgundy boy shorts she still had on. Italy was no less than utterly entranced by the amount of skin he managed to expose at this point if not by the sexy piece of intimates she kept on. The brief and sudden chill that hit her skin planted goosebumps all along her body. Her cheeks were drenched in an extravagant hue of scarlet as his hands began another journey along miles of legs, beginning from her ankles and dragging all the way up her shins, over the knees, and teasing up her thighs. The feel of silk beneath his palms and his fingertips was extremely titillating and compelled his lips to trail behind his curious hands. She trembled heavily when she felt his lips dragging behind his hands, briefly placing a light kiss upon her knee before continuing up her thighs. It was amazing how firm her thighs were—it simply drove him mad to have his mouth all over her like this.

Once those hands reached past her hips and dove underneath her shirt to feel along her stomach again, his mouth took its own initiative, worshipping her thighs so adoringly. Whimpers escaped her throat as she was left helpless to his touches. He brought one of his hands from underneath her shirt and back down beside him to lift at one leg, bending it by the knee and positioning her to open up slowly to him. This feeling of vulnerability washing through her was certainly alarming in accordance with her alert nature, but at the moment, it tasted so delicious. It was only even more so when those same teasing lips dared to drag along the small expanse of her inner thigh, dangerously close to that forbidden and blasted womanhood that never should have been there in the first place.

He didn't just plant butterfly kisses all along there—he planted lewd and wet kisses all along that silky stretch of skin, gently sucking every now and then. The response he received from her was certainly a leap forward—he immediately heard her gasp sharply in surprise and what he hoped to be utter delight. Her fingers clenched at the sheets just beside her head as his teasing mouth left her panting and craving for more—it left her burning just to realize how close his mouth was to her most forbidden areas. Even she couldn't get herself to go past her boundaries—Italy just needed to move his lips a few more inches upwards and...

"_Italien_..." she whined pitifully, her native tongue suddenly breaking loose in desperation as she threw her head back onto the sheets in a great bout of yearning. She needed more from him and he wasn't quite giving it to her yet. Upon hearing her afflicted sigh of desperation, he knew he wasn't quite giving her enough—he's been dying to know how silky it felt beneath her dresses that he must have been a little preoccupied.

But what to do now?

He wasn't quite sure where to move on to next. Come to think of it, she still had her black tee on—should he remove that next? Or should he just go straight for the panties and dive right in? He pouted against her inner thigh in thought, a wondering "Ve" seeping through his slightly swollen lips.

"Italy," he heard her call out to him again. As he lifted his head from between her legs to meet her eyes, he already noticed her leaning forward to him, immediately reaching for his white shirt. Germany pulled him up by the collar and brought his lips to crash onto hers for the umpteenth time that day as she pulled him back down onto the mattress atop her. As their tongues desperately ran wild for each other, her hands on his shirt relocated to his back where she began fisting the fabric as she clutched at him. Without much warning, she roughly pushed him away so that she could direct a questioning look at him. Italy seemed confused at first, but her eyes immediately drifted down to her hands lingering on the laces and the collar of his white shirt. Normally, she would be very direct with instructions, but times like these just left her in a hazy sense of embarrassment that made her too shy to make such straightforward yet simple commands. For somebody who was normally so slow to read the atmosphere, he immediately got the hint.

Once she let go of his shirt, Italy stood erect on his knees as his hands reached behind his neck and clutched fistfuls of fabric on his shirt. Germany watched him intently as he slowly pulled his shirt above his head and off his body, revealing stretches of tan skin she was oddly so familiar with. It amused her subtly how he chose to leave his iron cross on his person—seeing it contrast with his bare chest set off a soft sense of allure. Multiple times Germany had to deal with this boy in his naked and shameless glory—either sleeping beneath his sheets, or randomly jumping into the shower with him without previous notice, or even running around the countryside for no particular reason. So yes, Germany was actually very familiar with this body, yet this was something completely new to her. The Latin body of lean build that she was familiar with was only from a distance. Most of the time she'd be annoyed rather than admiring, but this time it excited her to know that she could touch and explore this body as much as she pleased, now granted a freedom to further this familiarity to a new, much more intimate level. The thought was nothing short of exciting, if not liberating. They were clearly reaching new heights. The next move was hers to decide.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** i hope two weeks wasn't too long of a wait for you guys (;3;) this week was literally bombarded w/ one test after another D:

anyway, after two weeks i started feeling uncomfortable with the wait, myself...especially since this "chapter" actually ended up longer than i originally intended "OTL but i guess that's not all that bad—now you guys have **three smokin' chapters** of hot lovemakin' heading your way ;D all those three chapters including this one was originally comprised in one whole chapter, but after it exceeded the word count of chapter 6 (which was, by far, the longest chapter in this fic), i knew it was much too long :\ and i was afraid that, although the sex is smokin', the length might end up boring some of you or make it quicker for you to lose interest, so i'm hoping that splitting them up with cliffhangers in between would only titillate your excitement ;3

soooo about that chapter title...when i thought dictionaries did me justice, a buddy/avid fellow reader who's a native speaker of German says that word doesn't exist in the German dictionary...this is about a week and a half after i post the chapter "OTL i was ready to drown in my pool at that moment ("._.) well, among one of my OCD's is consistency, so either i do this whole thing where i delete the chapter just to re-name and reedit the chapter title and then bring everything up and running again...OR...i'll just leave it as is and admit to my terrible use of German (i think i've already admitted to that earlier -_-)...i don't feel like making my life any more difficult so i'll submit to the latter (;w;) for anyone else who's native tongue is German: you may hunt me down if you wish. at the moment, i am only taking Japanese and Italian, BUT I SWEAR ON MY DEATHBED THAT I WILL ONE DAY TAKE GERMAN! /runs out the house


	14. Milch

**Chapter 14 - Milch**

A sharp jingling pierced through the smooth blanket of notes that kept Austria enveloped in harmony. With an irritated sigh, he abruptly stood from his baby grand and headed for the insistent jingling of the telephone coming from the adjacent room. All the while he cholerically pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose until his hand finally reached for the receiver.

"Yes, German residence," he impatiently answered through the receiver. "May I ask who is calling?"

A shy and calm voice responded on the other line. "H-hello? Austria-_san_?"

"Ah, Japan," he acknowledged, immediately adjusting the tone of his voice to seem much gentler. "Is there something the matter?"

"Oh, n-no, not at all—I was just wondering if _Doitsu-san_ is home at the moment."

"I apologize—she is not," he replied. "As I recall, she simply walked out of the house and insisted that I not wait for or expect her to return for some time. She was not in the brightest of moods, it seemed."

"_Sou desu ka_..." Austria heard him say softly on the other line. "May I ask _Puroisen_-_san_ if he might know of her whereabouts?"

"He is not home, either, I am afraid," he responded with feigned regrets, although a hint of joy laced itself in his response. "He is apparently out of town for a conference."

"I understand..."

"...I can only assume she might be at the Italian's house as we speak, if you were still wondering," Austria added thoughtfully.

"Yes, I feel the same, as well," Japan agreed instantly. "I hope all is going well between them."

"If no murders are committed, it would be safe to conclude that their reconciliation had gone smoothly."

"I-I suppose so..." Japan certainly hoped no such drastic events would ever occur. He cleared his throat nervously on the other line. "_D-dewa_, I apologize for bothering you. Thank you for your time." With that, a soft click emerged from the other line.

For a moment, Austria pulled the receiver away from his ear to stare curiously at it, as if it were some weird contraption. He shrugged to himself and slowly walked away from the telephone.

"Let's hope she is not being too hard on the poor fool," he said aloud to himself as he cracked his knuckles to freshness and immediately returned to his piano session.

::::::::::::::::::::

Stretches of sun-kissed skin met her curious gaze. A body not of the heaviest build, but neither of the scrawniest kind, she thanked inwardly. Countless training sessions were already displaying some results, although obviously not by much as he still had some baby fat to show for his deficiencies. Regardless, she found his soft spots comforting and alluring, somehow.

It only bothered her for a brief second when he carelessly chucked his white shirt into a random corner in his bedroom, but there wasn't much she could do about Italy's laid back character. Once he had been finally rid of his shirt, her hand tentatively reached out ahead of her, ready to make contact with hot, sun-kissed skin. Soon enough, her palm laid flat between his stomach and his chest, fingers right above his breastbone. Her movements started off timid and tentative, initially resorting to slow movements of her palm dragging up and down his chest. The curious hand stopped just above his heart, feeling its erratic tempo beating right underneath his heated skin. Italy watched with much fascination as she dared to lean into him, initially stopping at nose length from his chest in sudden hesitation before diving into him with soft and parted lips. Shivers immediately ran up and down his spine upon contact which would escalate into sudden trembling bursts whenever her tongue darted out from between her parted lips.

The taste of his skin amazed and excited her—salty like the Mediterranean, warm and toasty like the sun, and with a hint of freshness almost like basil. Chills lingered all over his skin wherever her tongue ran upon, but it was her hot breath against his chest that brought him to new heights of arousal. Fingers began running through crops of blonde affectionately as she continued to lavish sun-kissed skin with some of her own kisses while her hands lay along his back, lightly running her fingernails down, sending electric shocks all throughout his body. Shy and gentle lips found their way to one nipple—she placed an experimental peck on it before letting her tongue out to play again, teasing it erect with slow and playful strokes. Meanwhile, the other hand that had been roaming his chest found its way to its twin, gently pinching and rubbing with her thumb—his nerves were set ablaze.

He was moaning again, hands fisting at her hair as his spine curved to the direction of her teasing mouth. A sudden burst of empowerment and determination flowed through her upon realizing how much she could actually make this boy squirm with her inexperienced touch. After one last wet lap of her tongue, she pulled away from his chest, now glistening in her saliva, and grabbed the boy by the nape without warning, pulling him back down to lock lips all over his mussed-up mattress, never ceasing to drag his hands all along his lavished chest. Somewhere in between, his impetuousness compelled him to take breaks for the sake of removing his pants once and for all, leaving him clad in nothing other than his boxers and his iron cross. Germany was actually half hoping that this would be one of Italy's random commando days, but she wasn't bothered much by that single article of clothing left on his body—that was quite easy to be rid off.

Throughout the writhing and the grinding, Germany managed to switch their positions as she rolled him over with a sudden force of her chest. The heated grinding continued without Italy realizing much about the switching of their positions until the blonde lifted herself off of him. Big brown eyes cracked open, blinking away the haze, only to find his bodacious ally kneeling erect above him with her legs on either side of his waist. His eyes immediately caught sight of large expanses of fair skin—she was just in the middle of removing her shirt. Although it only took Germany about a second to pull off her shirt, it felt like an amazing hour to the Italian beneath her. Stretches of her goddess-like abdominals revealed themselves, followed almost immediately by alluring tracts of burgundy lace that matched perfectly with her boy shorts, now completely exposed to his amazed eyes. For a moment, her beautiful face disappeared into her black tee and away from his view, but he was still able to marvel completely at the way her skin and her muscles were stretched taut as she pulled her shirt over her head, subtle traces of her ribcage revealed as her arms reached for the ceiling. He almost whimpered at the sight, completely lost in the marvelous work of art that had long been hidden underneath. Orbs of hazel roamed from the milky thighs he was directly admiring just a minute ago all the way up, lingering for a moment at each intricate piece of burgundy. By the time his eyes had trailed up her body, lingering briefly on the iron cross she decided to leave alone, she had already removed her shirt, allowing him to meet her crystal-blue eyes with a gleam of his brown ones and a playful grin on his face.

"D-don't look at me like that!" she stuttered with a deep blush as she looked away from him in embarrassment.

Although they've definitely seen each other in bare bones before, this is something completely and obviously new. Other than that, never before has she felt this exposed, despite all other times she would spend with Italy in the shower or with Japan in the _onsen_. The realization was a little heavy to bear for the moment, but it still felt liberating and delightful.

"Ve...How am I supposed to look at you, then?" he asked her in candid wonder. "I can't help but gaze at a marvelous work of art standing right before me," he added whimsically.

The snort of a response coming from the blonde above him was quickly brushed aside when he noticed that she was just beginning to actually _fold _her black tee as he admired her body—the way she had to drape it along her front so that she may fold efficiently blocked his view much too significantly. Impatience got the better of him. Quick hands snatched at the black mass of fabric halfway folded with her dexterous fingers to chuck it in the same corner with his discarded shirt. No form of protest or pique could emerge from her mouth soon enough once his lips were back on hers and his hands grappled desperately for her burgundy-covered breasts. She gave a sharp gasp as his mouth worked her to another eon of submission—his fingers were kneading her so well, with a firm grip but such gentleness that he was practically massaging her, and she couldn't help but submit completely to those mischievous fingers. His lips unlatched from hers as he wedged his head along the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his hot breath dewing the small stretch of skin as he memorized the contours, the depth, the delicious firmness pressed under his fingertips and against his palm. He really was a young virgin, finally fulfilling his adolescent-long, inexplicable fascination in the comfort of a female's bosom. But simple touch by the hand was not enough. There must be more to know, more to discover.

Gentle motions lulled her to relaxation, humming approvingly of the boy's careful hands. In enough time, she became bored of the motions despite the compliments of the accompanying massage. She brought one hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down on the mattress. She could swear a small whine reached her ears when her motions compelled him to release her breasts, to which she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Quit sniveling—you've got enough of me already, don't you?" she bashfully chided him.

"Ve..."

Being the first time he was able to literally have a hand at a good pair of breasts without the subsequent sting of a woman's palm, of course he couldn't help but disapprove when pushed away. Then again, such a brief moment of loss was altogether compensated by the sight of her half-naked body hovering gloriously over his, one hand planted on the sheets and the other flat against his chest, slowly dragging along as she moved above him. She was like a cute, shy kitten, just crawling lasciviously above him, her back arching as she moved her knees in such a way that gave him an immense view of all the dips and curves that made up her bodacious body. She was a femme fatale, or at least she exceedingly resembled one. For all he knew, despite her apparent bashfulness and innocuous touches, she was more than capable of pulling a knife on him, a knife so efficiently concealed in her overwhelming bosom, probably. Germany can be dangerous, especially whenever she needed to be, and having such a lethal woman atop of him—dragging her hands across his chest, meshing her lips with his, teasing his sensitive curl with curious and playful strokes—for all he knew, she might just kill him with her touches. He almost felt on edge from the thought alone. Oh, Germany...Germany is really _something._

"Germany..._haa_..." he cried out softly as her fingers stroked his delicate curl, her lips grazing his hot cheeks.

"D-does it...feel good?" she asked sincerely, her voice dwindling to a shy whisper.

"..._Very_..." was all he could reply at such an overwhelming moment of pleasure, drawing out a deep sigh of appreciation.

"I-I see..."

Her fingers continued stroking while she rested her head on his shoulder, watching contently the way his chest heaved with each stroke of her fingers. The breathy sound of his voice reentering her ears brought her out of her trance. "Hey...Germany..."

"What is it?" she asked lethargically, lifting her head off his shoulder to look at his pleasure-ridden face. Interest and slight surprise hit her when she felt his palms along her back, feeling along the hem of her lace bra, clearly but tentatively seeking for the clasp. She gave Italy a curious look and was met with an innocuous smile. A sweet giggle reached her ears.

"I'm guessing you just happened to be wearing tasteful lingerie today?" he teased her, evoking her to blush in embarrassment and slight annoyance.

"A-as if I planned any of this! I came knocking at your door in total emotional turmoil, remember?"

That reminder caused his smile to dwindle for a moment, but it was easily able to recover as his fingers finally reached for the clasp, remaining still for just another precious moment.

"And besides," she added in a soft and embarrassed tone, "it's because of you that I found myself buying so much lace if not training wear."

He let out a reminiscent chuckle, his memory returning to when he bought that lovely lingerie set of black lace that fateful day. "...Funny how everything just ended up, huh?" he asked almost mindlessly as if he were just speaking aloud to himself. She brought both palms flat onto the mattress and lifted herself up slightly, enough to hover directly above Italy beaming face.

"...Funny how I actually ended up agreeing to all this," she softly replied in wonder to all occurrences of the past half hour and implications of all else in the previous month. She slowly lowered herself onto him, lips meeting once more in a slow and deliberate motion. The hands on her back made subtle movements as lips and tongue worked on her own—suddenly, tension along her chest was released. Without detaching her lips from his, she lifted herself slightly with her arms on either side of him. She could feel the thin cuts of fabric slowly sliding along and off her shoulders, and soon enough her chest felt free of constriction, immediately met with a cool and soothing breath of fresh air. Total cooperation allowed him to slip the flimsy article off her body with much ease, all the while never releasing his hold on her mouth. Somewhere in between, he managed to roll over her, purposely distributing much of his weight all along his chest and along her firm breasts as he simply dropped the article of lace on the floor beside his bed. She felt much of his weight on her breasts for a moment, applying the perfect amount of pressure on her, but the delicious weight left her, only to be replaced by the feel of palms grazing her sensitive nipples. She gave a soft gasp, bringing him to pull away just a mere centimeter from her. His eyes held onto her half-lidded ones as his palms began working their magic, gliding along every contour, alternating between palming, squeezing, gracing with his fingers. When he gently circled her pink nubs with his slightly calloused thumbs, she arched into him, giving off an enticing mewl.

With an ardent breath, he dared to remove his hands, bringing his eyes to admire the exposed and generous hills of flesh below him. With skin so smooth and creamy they look like they could melt in his mouth, flesh so round and firm that it'd be like biting into juicy, succulent fruit, nipples hard and pink they almost looked like candy...

The way he licked his lips in deep voracity could not escape Germany's eyes. Ludwig began to wonder if he would gaze at his female self with as much lust and hunger as Italy had behind his eyes at that moment during those sessions of curiosity in the shower or in the dressing room. Whether or not he had displayed such similar expressions of lust before was out of the question, however—it was a purely different experience to have someone else gaze at her so voraciously. Much to her dismay, something about the lust in his eyes reminded her of the way France undressed her with his eyes, and yet it bore a different expression on Italy's flushed countenance; what France had reflected pure gluttony, but Italy's reflected either that of a starved child who was just about to partake in his first meal in weeks or a fascinated child about to partake in a dish that was so new and seemed so delicious. Be it the former or the latter, his desire saturated the air just from the simple sight of her bare bosom before him, and it sent an electrifying thrill up her spine and down her nether regions. She writhed a little, trying to accommodate the overpowering surge of desire washing through her body with a whimper.

Such enticing cries compelled him to touch her immediately. He impulsively brought his face down to her bosom, first mouthing at her milky skin while inhaling the alluring sent of her soap and the unique essence that sent images of Ludwig flashing before him—there was a hint of metal, but it was overpowered by cotton and fresh rain. The next time he opened his eyes, he almost expected to find himself atop the broad and muscular chest he loved to cuddle into, but the round creaminess beneath his lips did him little to no disappointment. A pink wetness emerged between his lips, lavishing the cream of her skin. His curious tongue soon found the hard candy sitting atop and began twirling at it, savoring in its sweetness. A wanton mewl emerged out of her mouth, hung agape, filling the room and his ears with beautiful music of utter pleasure. Slender fingers gripped at the sheets, fisted at his hair, grappled all around the bed as his soft lips wrapped around her teased nipple, his other hand alternating between palming and kneading her other breast, two fingers rubbing and gently tugging at her other nipple. Was her chest really this sensitive? If she returned to her male form, would her nipples be just as sensitive? If ever Italy planned on touching her so sensually again, she certainly hoped so. Who ever knew these irritating obstructions could ever be of benefit to her.

Germany thrust her chest out, bringing her bosom to further smother at the Italian's face as his lips suckled feverishly at the pink candy in his mouth. Lips unlatched with a wet pop only to immediately transfer to the other, the suckling motions of his soft lips accompanied by hot and wet laps of his tongue all across her sensitive bud. She wasn't sure which was more distracting: the chill on her wet nipple now being assaulted by curious fingers, or the feel of soft lips milking her quite deliciously. Ragged, erratic breaths bounced off the walls of his room softly lit in sunlight, only to be replaced with soft moans when gentle fingers began gliding between her legs. Swollen lips released her and he let a wanton moan slip past them as his fingers felt along warm, damp lace. A rare feeling of accomplishment washed through him in amazement that he could actually get her this aroused. He retaliated with one more lewd lap of her sensitive nub when he felt her hips grinding against his palm—he swore he could feel her panties totally saturating with pure arousal. Fingers curled questioningly into her crotch.

Is it time for the next move?

"Ve...Germany..." he whined in her ear, unsure of how to ask for permission to go further.

It wasn't of Germany's nature to be so lewd, but at this point, Italy had successfully left her in a state of utter abandon. There's no going back or elsewhere—only all the way.

Slender fingers left the sheets to fist at his hair as she pulled him from her ear to face her fully, inhaling every ounce of him as she was left in an ironic state, her commandeering nature directing him to take full advantage of her complete abandon and surrender to him.

"Touch me..._now._"

The fingers at her panties moved swiftly, gliding up to shove themselves inside, curiously feeling at the soft tuffs of blonde before gliding a single finger between wet lips in a slow search for her entrance. She groaned in delight and anticipation, spreading her thighs and opening up further to him. He had one finger circling slowly around her opening, her arousal completely lubricating her, but he was reluctant. Regardless of whether Ludwig had any prior experience at all, this female body of hers certainly had none, or so he hoped if he assumed France hadn't gone to disastrous lengths with her. He was afraid of hurting her in the process. In brief hesitance, he decided to buy a little more time and satisfy just a bit more of his curiosity. He began exploring her forbidden area, circling around before slowly moving back up between her lips in a smooth glide. She was panting heavily, biting her lip occasionally in response to his slow and careful movements.

Where to go now?

There didn't seem to be much area to explore, nonetheless he settled with a simple up and down and occasional side to side in movements. He hoped that with enough patience, he could get somewhere, but so far she didn't give much reaction save for the occasional sighs and shudders. Didn't he hear once about a woman's magic button hidden somewhere on her body? From the jibber jabber he had involved himself in a few times, he's been told that there were such spots that could leave a woman writhing in total ecstasy. The question now is where to find such spots. While his fingers glided between her wet lips, he felt a subtle protrusion somewhere, like a bump. Maybe if he travelled back around that area, he may just find something...

A sweet sensation ran shudders through her body. Her back curved up high, her head was thrown back, and her mouth hung open in silent pleasure as her breath hitched in her throat. "_A—aahhhn..._"

Italy was actually left in acute shock to her reaction, left in fear for a brief second that he may have hurt her, but he was quick to realize that it was quite the opposite. His fingers began moving again, frantically searching for that same spot that sent such shocks through her lithe body. They travelled around that bump again—could this be the magical button? He gently and experimentally pressed at it and began rolling it around, only to be met with amazing results. Germany had to hold back a scream at the intense and electrifying sensation overpowering her entire body, but the effort only became harder to uphold when Italy subsequently continued the rolling of his finger on her extremely sensitive clit in accordance to her body's unhindered delight. She was holding onto the sheets for dear life, her face leant into the pillows beneath her head to hide her delight from the Italian's prying eyes.

Such an exquisite and burning rapid of total bliss flowed into every single nerve in her body, wracking her senses into a mashed blur as she was blinded with intense pleasure. Just as all those manuals have told Ludwig, it really only takes a few simple movements to make a writhing fit of ecstasy out of a woman. It was enough to almost make him hope that he would never revert back to his male self—he didn't believe it would be feasible to achieve such levels of euphoria with a man's body.

The slightly depressing belief reminded her to focus intently and wholeheartedly on the delicious pressure being applied on her raw clit and the white heat pooling between her legs, ever-increasing in intensity the more he rubbed at and pressed on it. The capricious twisting and contorting of her deeply flushed face compelled Italy to press a little harder, stroke a little faster. The speed of his fingers became maddening, almost frightening. It nearly frightened her how quickly and suddenly every muscle in her body was tensing as he rubbed her tender button, but it felt much too good to stop anytime soon. Knuckles turned white as she clenched harder at the sheets, her body writhing incessantly, her head being thrown in different directions, pitch-varied pants and moans spilling from her mouth—Italy was addicted to the sight.

As he watched her in complete fascination, her body suddenly stilled, back arched and breasts fully sprout forth, eyes screwed shut, mouth hung wide open but no sounds emitted. His eyes slowly widened as his fingers worked on their own agenda, leaving her throbbing clit to travel down and slowly, finally slip into her soaking wet orifice. Just as he was slowly slipping a finger inside, his eyes caught the sharp jolt that wracked through her entire body, followed by heavy quakes and trembles in every muscle as a loud and shaky moan broke free from her throat, one moan after another directed towards the ceiling as she quaked incessantly. It was as if a taut thread had been stretched to its limit and finally snapped. He felt it as he pushed further, her inner walls contracting in nearly supersonic waves and waves of spasms all around his finger, hips riding and grinding on it, quaking thighs further spreading with each orgasmic wave. He watched her entire body tremble blissfully as she came hard and wet on his hand. This was, by far, one of his greatest accomplishments yet, along with the greatest reward he had ever received subsequently. He just made Germany come..._hard_. Certainly, he was hoping that such a feat could be achieved again when given a chance with Ludwig.

Just as quickly and suddenly as she had come, all the tension in her body dispersed, leaving Germany a limp, panting, sweaty mess of post-orgasmic bliss in Italy's bed sheets, a shaky but satisfied whimper slipping out of her swollen lips. She could almost feel her heart thudding out of her chest as her blood gradually simmered down. Italy left his finger inside her, now relishing solely in the wet and velvety feel of her worn out walls clenched all around it. Although his eyes remained on her flushed body that slowly calmed, he continued to focus on the warmth surrounding that single finger. Oh, how beautiful it must feel to be enveloped in such warm, wet heat, to have those same orgasmic waves clenching around his hard shaft as he filled her with his essence, shooting his load deep inside her warmth in gushes and spurts of pure ecstasy. Good _God_, he wanted her _now._ But he couldn't bring himself to make the next move while she was still slowly but surely recovering from her orgasmic aftershocks.

While her inner muscles were slowly relaxing, he decided to pull his finger out before removing his hand out of her soaked panties for the time being, trying hard to convince himself that much better should be expected in a few moments. Germany barely realized that Italy had fingered her at all—her orgasm was already wracking through her by then. But the feel of it retracting from her center left an interesting sensation, causing her to moan and gyrate her hips just a little, as if she wanted it kept buried inside her.

"...Italy..." she breathed out lethargically, feeling totally drained.

"Ve?" he quietly replied as he crawled over her, smearing his soiled fingers along her bare stomach. The feel of him smearing her own wetness on her skin made her squirm a bit.

By now her breathing had dwindled to a soft and relaxed rhythm. "Where...Where did you learn to do all that? I thought you've never—uh..." She blushed a little and averted her face into the pillows. "I thought...you've never done this kind of thing before."

Italy giggled. "Germany, I've never gone any farther than a kiss and a pet with _anyone_ until you came along." Amusement was clear in his face as he flashed a big grin at her. "I think a lot of that was just luck," he added, referring to his surprising ability to bring her to orgasm so quickly.

Germany gave a snort as she shot an incredulous look at his direction. "There's no way that was all luck—you must've gotten that somewhere," she insisted.

"Ve...well..." Italy knew that his touches did not stem completely from his own instinct, but he was a little reluctant to share his knowledge of the matter. "I don't think I should tell you—you might get upset."

Her eyebrow shot up in suspicion—he was hiding something from her. "You don't have to lie about being a virgin to me, that kind of thing doesn't bother—"

"N-No, it's not that," he interrupted her, waving his hands in disagreement. But he didn't want to keep anything from her after their argument earlier. He might as well open up to her, but he really hoped it wouldn't diminish her mood at all—they still had all day and all night of loving to work on. He sighed deeply and cautiously. "F-France taught me...a thing or two..."

He immediately noticed her eye twitch violently at the mention of the cretin's name. The Italian stilled for a moment, the tenseness spread along her brow remaining for another excruciating second before she let her head plop down on the pillows with an exasperated sigh. He actually feared quite a bit that he may have turned her off for the rest of the day just with a single mention of her offender's name. What bothered her the most, however, was how he managed to gain some of his skill from the same man who abused such skills on her body.

"Ve...I'm sorry, Germany," was as much as he could say to her as he leaned cautiously into her, nipping her ear comfortingly. The simple act was enough to make her melt and forget all malice and bloodlust. "I-it was a long time ago—I promise, I didn't even ask for any of it, he just kind of imposed it on me...you know how he is..." He sucked and nipped lightly on her earlobe before trailing butterfly kisses in the crook of her neck.

Italy was much too gentle. Even if the dexterity of his touches partly stemmed from France's expertise, his tenderness remained unmatched. Italy would never hurt her, nor would he ever take advantage of her the way France so shamelessly did. At that realization, it seemed she had fully given him her trust. Fingers began combing soothingly through brown strands—she felt absolutely comforted just having him so close to her.

"There's no need to apologize—you weren't the one who tried hurting me that day."

"Even then," he briskly retorted, his head quickly lifting from the crook of her neck to face her. "Even then...I still managed to hurt you..." It's obvious he was still remorseful, even after how far they've gotten past their misunderstandings.

Blue eyes held his wide brown ones, brimming in remorse and sadness. They drifted down a short distance and settled on the iron cross that remained hanging from his neck. She found her free hand raise to finger at his necklace in wonder, only to be filled with comfort and assurance. Japan was right—Italy would never forsake her. He had already gone so far to prove his love to her—it's about time she finally believed him and let him off the hook.

The fingers laced through his hair applied just a little bit of pressure on his cranium, warning the unsuspecting and lamenting boy of what was about to come before she gently pushed him back down on her, planting a tender and affectionate kiss on his worn out lips. Italy succumbed immediately to the workings of her lips—he could almost feel the warmth of her forgiveness radiating off of them, making him melt completely. When she pulled him away from her with a soft peck, she immediately turned away, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks upon thoughts of her next choice of words.

"D-do you...want to—umm—keep...going?" she asked him meekly, her brow twitching in embarrassment. As humiliating as it was for her to admit, she yearned for him and she needed him now.

In the meantime, Italy almost leapt in joy, but really made an effort to keep himself from seeming much too eager to start screwing around—alas, the effort was instantly lost. "Oh_, do I,_" he replied in unhindered excitement as he claimed her lips in a ferocious kiss, his hands once again searching for her firm chest. Heat was instantly rising inside of her as they tongued feverishly, and would only heighten when she felt his fingers hooking onto the last racy patch of lace plastered on her body. He pulled away from her, the both of them gasping for breath, so that he could efficiently tug down her burgundy boy shorts. Knees inched him further down her body as his fingers pulled down, lifting her beautiful legs in the process as he removed the last piece and revealed her completely. Once they were past her ankles and off her body completely, he fingered the damp lace for a moment before chucking it aside, taking his sweet time as he stood on his knees to fully admire the nude beauty beneath him.

There was nothing left to hide any inch of fair skin from his eyes, save for the iron cross that lay hanging innocently along her delicate collarbone—he was definitely going to leave that around her neck just as he left his above his chest. Eyes settled on her ankles and worked their way up the curves of her calves and the creaminess of her thighs before settling on the blonde triangle atop the luscious area he so recently assaulted. They continued on, tracing the subtle muscular outlines of her abdominals, then tracing the dips and curves of her ample breasts, before finally settling on those beautiful crystal-blue eyes he was so familiar with, now darkened over with raw lust. There was no preventing the smile stretching across his cheeks—he was about to have her all to himself and no one was going to stop him.

Brisk movements caught her by surprise as Italy practically dropped himself atop her, immediately tangling his tongue with hers while his fingers worked their magic once more along her forbidden parts, causing her body to wrack and writhe in a sudden jolt of pleasure. Calloused pads worked up and across her sensitized vulva, occasionally tapping at her clit just to enjoy in her squirming fits. Eventually he moved further down to her very center, circling again at her wet entrance as if waiting for her consent. A slim hand slithered down in between them, settling above his and compelling him to move further. As his finger slowly delved into her, her hips bucked and she arched into his chest, her tongue lasciviously melding with his. Italy was careful with his movements, finding a slight challenge in splitting his attention between his mouth on hers and his finger pleasuring her. After some short moments, he dared add a second finger, the subtle feel of being stretched making her gasp sharply as she unlatched her mouth from his. He stopped moving for a second.

"G-Germany, does it hurt?" he asked in immediate concern.

"N-no," she replied rather breathily, adjusting her hips to the sensation of his fingers inside of her. "I'm just..._hnn_...not used to it."

Soon enough, the hand on his nudged forward, causing him to bury his fingers deeper inside, evoking a shuddering breath out of her as her eyes rolled back. "Don't stop," she ordered him in a shallow fit of ecstasy. Italy followed her orders with a small nod, and slowly his fingers began to move, gradually picking up in pace, leaving her panting as she spread her legs even further. Soft pants and tender moans spilling from the blonde's lips motivated him to continue fingering her as he leant forward to lap at the shell of her ear. It didn't take long until a familiar tightening spread all over her muscles again. Germany acted accordingly, bringing a hand to push gently against his chest in warning.

"_Ohhh..._Italy, I might..._Ahhn_..."

"Ve..." He heeded to her warning and slowly pulled his fingers out of her to prevent her from coming again too soon. The sensation made her shudder again, but through her soft trembles, the realization of being fingered hit her with a sudden reminder. The subject was actually so urgent that she wanted to hit herself for not having thought it over much earlier before they've gotten so far in their frenzy. How could they have been so irresponsible that they would actually forget something so vital? She shot up straight, completely surprising the boy above her.

"ITALY!"

"GYAAH!" he shrieked in total surprise and fear. "Was I supposed to keep going?" he asked frantically.

"No—agh, _Christ_," she seethed as a palm slammed against her forehead. How could she have possibly _forgotten_?

"G-Germany, what's wrong?"

The palm on her forehead slowly slid down her face, covering her mouth as her angry eyes met his. A mumble tried forcing its way through her palm.

"W-what?" Italy asked cautiously.

She removed her hand from her mouth to slam it down the sheets. "Condoms," she snarled.

The very mention of it left Italy so dumbfounded that he actually needed a couple of seconds for the problem to register properly. They were not protected. He was hoping there'd be some way out of it because, in all honesty, he didn't have any waiting around in his drawers. "Ve...Is it really needed?" he asked almost dimwittedly. "I mean, I don't think you can _really_ get pregnant, can you?"

She growled briefly. "Italy...Remember that night when I ran rampant on your deck? Remember I told you I was on my period?" His brow furrowed at his words, seemingly unable to grasp completely at the severity of the situation. "This body _can _get pregnant—and if you impregnate me, I don't know what'll happen. Surely, it'll be 'game over' from there..." She brought her hands to her face as she groaned in frustration.

"_Dumm, dumm, dumm..._" he heard her mumble almost comically from behind her hands.

"Ve..." he whined softly. They can't just stop now, not after they've already gone so far. Italy's mind ran rampant for a possible solution to the problem. In a short moment, a light bulb clicked alight inside his mind in hopes of a very likely solution. He suddenly got up on his knees with a very loud and enlightened "Ve," bringing Germany to remove her face from her hands to look up at him in surprise and curiosity. She got antsy once Italy stepped out of the bed.

"Wait right here! Don't go anywhere!" he ordered her as he ran through his wide open bedroom door and down the outdoor hallway.

"Wha—wait—Italy!" she yelled after him, but to no avail. He was already far down the hallway. An arm plopped back down on the mattress in defeat. She was altogether surprised that he had enough willpower to leave a naked girl alone on his bed without having performed much of the main attraction yet. She leant back on her arms with a brusque sigh. Her fingers began twiddling on the sheets impatiently after some short moments while her eyes mindlessly roamed around his softly lit bedroom. Crystal blues settled on his bedside drawer for a moment—she was actually tempted to start rummaging for solutions in there. That boy better come back, or else.

Much to her relief, the scurrying of footsteps brought her to look up and find her Latin lover rushing down the hallway to the best of his ability as his throbbing hard-on allowed him. He made it to the doorway, slightly winded from his short run, and immediately brought up a tiny square package in between two fingers with an ecstatic grin stretching across his face.

"We're good to go."

Germany was struck with amazement and confusion—was Italy so impetuous that he actually ran to the nearest drug store about five miles away in Sienna? "W-where did you find that?"

He chuckled amorously as he walked towards the bed and crawled amusedly over her naked body, the precious package held securely in his fingertips. "Don't tell big brother, but...I snuck in his bedroom just to grab these," he whispered playfully like a five-year old sharing secrets as he brought a silent finger to his lips.

She shot him a questioning look. "Romano has been sleeping around?" she asked in pure curiosity.

Italy giggled and shrugged. "No~ He keeps a whole pack in his bedroom just in case the day comes when he brings a girl home with him."

Germany rolled her eyes, attempting to hold back an amused smile over how Italy had beat his older brother in the love game. "How about you? You never have any lying around? You know...just in case?"

Italy softly shook his head, a sweet smile gracing his cheeks. "I never thought I'd get this far with anyone anytime soon, so I didn't think I needed any yet." He leant forward to kiss her deeply as he gently pushed her back down. "Thank goodness Romano has higher expectations," he playfully added with a giggle.

"Well, that's one thing I'll thank him for," Germany added with a sigh as her fingers tentatively reached for the elastics of his boxers, which she felt have been on his body for much too long, especially when she knew he would normally have them removed with the rest of his clothes within seconds at the instant chime of three o'clock siesta time. They cooperated with each other's movements, both rising on their knees so that the very last article of clothing could be removed already. She kept her eyes on his while her fingers yanked down at the elastics of his boxers, finally freeing his throbbing arousal. Italy lifted one leg at a time, allowing her to completely remove the shorts from his body. Before she could even attend to her compulsion to fold said shorts, he quickly snatched for a fistful of fabric to impetuously throw it across his room.

She couldn't even bring herself to glare at his sloppiness. Instead, her eyes immediately fell down to the freed package before her. A hand reached down as fingers gingerly curled around his hard shaft, evoking a shudder from the extensively aroused boy. She suddenly reminisced on times when the two of them would mindlessly compare and discuss penis sizes. Germany couldn't deny that he was blessed with such an endowment—such was true even while female—but he won't argue that Italy was at a loss. Average in size, but she deemed him just right, neither too insignificant nor overbearing.

A lone finger rubbed at the glowing-red head, smearing milky droplets all around it. She was heaving in absolute excitement, her eyes averting from the lewd sight of her fingers around his cock to the contorted expression of absolute bliss on his face as a shaky moan left his lips and hips bucked into her fingers.

"Germany..." he moaned out wantonly. "I need you, _now_..."

Her lips pursed tightly in impatience as one hand briskly grabbed for the precious package in his fingers. Despite the heat of the moment, she tore at the wrappings very carefully, fearful that she may damage their only source of solace and security. She delicately pulled out the lubricated rubber circle, bothered for a moment by how she was unable to find a waste bin nearby to discard of the wrappings. She brushed off her compulsions immediately upon realizing that there were much more important tasks to move on to. Fingers worked slowly and cautiously—for a brief second she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do—rolling the length of rubber from his swollen head all the way down to the base, where she experimentally squeezed at his balls, causing him to bite his lip in anticipation.

Once he felt his shaft fully covered and secure, he pushed her back down and immersed her in a mind-spinning kiss while his hands began working to position her accordingly, spreading her legs to him as he aligned his hips with hers. He ground down on her exposed clit, the both of them swallowing each other's moans. He pulled away with a sharp breath. They held each other's eyes and remained still.

"Germany...?"

She inhaled briefly, before responding with a small nod.

Although it didn't appear so much on his physical countenance, happiness gleamed behind his eyes as he, too, nodded in return. "Ve...Hold onto me," he gently directed her as his hands pushed behind her knees, placing her in a deliciously vulnerable position that left her totally exposed beneath him. Germany meekly wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders and laced her fingers in brown strands, while Italy buried his face in the crook of her neck as one hand positioned himself. There was a short pause. Blue eyes were plastered to the ceiling. Although she seemed calm as her fingers absentmindedly stroked strands of brown, she was actually slightly fearful of what to expect and yet the building anticipation was just so extremely overwhelming as she waited for him to make his move. Italy breathed in her scent one more time, and with an energetic sigh and a soft kiss on her bruised cheek, he dove right in.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **i really have to mention this: while i was re-reading the little snippet when Germany was removing her shirt, my PANDORA was on and John Mayer's "Your Body Is A Wonderland" started playing. i couldn't stop giggling like a little girl as i re-read that scene—i love matching backdrops, especially if they just come out of nowhere XD thank you PANDORA~

speaking of appropriate backdrops, i've got a soundtrack for you while you read this and the next chapter:  
>"Open the Window" - SEUNGRI (feat. G-DRAGON)<br>"Don't Let Go" - Jay Park (*squee*)  
>yes, i've got the smooth Korean R&amp;B going on (; that's some good mood music, if you ask me.<p>

moving on—chapter title = "Milk" ...don't ask me to explain it, i'll end up blushing 6("=\\\\=)

so~ we're just about to head on to the main attraction (am i teasing you guys too much? XD). in the meantime, lemme know how the sex is doing you...erm—mentally, so to speak :P


	15. Honig

**Chapter 15 - Honig**

Penetration was slow, but Germany wouldn't have it any other way. Her breath hitched as she clung onto his neck and slowly took in every little inch of him. At first, the feel of being stretched much wider than just with the use of his slim fingers felt a little unnerving and uncomfortable, but the deeper he went, the more her walls accommodated and welcomed him, and that in itself was pure _bliss_. Her thighs distanced with miles between until she could no longer spread them any further, allowing him greater ease and a smoother entry. Italy, on the other hand, had to make valiant efforts through a low and shaky groan to keep from pounding into her velvety abyss upon immediate contact with her heat. Halfway through his introduction, she began clawing at his back as she threw back her head and let out a wanton moan of delight. Her body was already tensing blissfully and Italy had barely let half of himself delve into her—she felt she could just come from the amazing sensation and the very realization of being penetrated by her one and only Italian. It was nothing like she had ever expected and it simply became much too difficult for her to repress this utter burst of excitement.

After what felt like an excruciating eternity, Italy was left seated deep inside her. He stilled for another moment, shuddering heavily from the feel of such inviting heat wrapped all around him as his soft panting pounded against her dulled eardrums. As he allowed their selves to accommodate to the new and pleasant sensations, he took a moment to assure her comfort.

"Ve...Germany, are you—"

His whispers of concern were immediately interrupted by a lewd cry from her parted lips, as if she knew exactly what he was wondering, all the while her hips began grinding back into him, begging for more. From the pleasure-ridden contortions all over her beautifully flushed face, he was utterly delighted over how good he was making her feel just from being inside her.

"I-Italy..." she practically cried out.

"_Mnn_...Germany," he whispered back huskily, nipping the shell of her ear as he relished in the delicious heat surrounding him.

"This is...This is _weird_," she breathed out in between shallow pants.

"Ve...?" he wondered aloud in slight concern. He brought his head up to gaze at her with half-lidded eyes, slightly afraid that he probably had done something incorrectly. "What do you mean by that?"

It took quite a bit of effort to get herself to open her eyes and look up at him properly. "Am I—I mean...Does this mean I'll lose my virginity to you as a—uhh...as a woman?" Her brow furrowed slightly as she tried grappling the extremely odd concept. If ever Ludwig imagined how he would lose his virginity and to who, such a situation never even touched his expectations and only very rarely did it ever touch his fantasies—his first time will be as a woman? His calculating nature is having quite a difficult time grasping everything at the moment. If anything, she was practically dampening the mood just a little with her pressing questions.

"Will I still be a virgin when I turn back to normal? Or does it really even matter?" She gave a questioning look at his direction, to which Italy couldn't help but reply with a just-as-befuddled "Ve." A weird enigma this all was, he had to agree, but with a small smile and a soft sigh, he instantly disregarded the idea.

"It really is kind of weird, but..." He placed an affectionate peck on her damp forehead. "I guess it really doesn't matter. If I can make you feel as good later on as I'm making you feel right now, then it's all the same."

Blonde brows raised in wonder. "So...sex is sex?" she attempted rewording in a small hint of blunt understanding, her focus much too fogged by the intense sensation between her legs.

Italy just shrugged and giggled teasingly. "I prefer to call it 'lovemaking'."

And with that, no other words were shared as he meshed their mouths together in a passionate kiss and his hips began a surprisingly patient and gradual pace. The two of them had finally melded their bodies together as one, and the very idea drove the both of them to a lust-driven madness. At some point, they were no longer actually kissing, but rather just breathing in each other in total desperation as hips rhythmically ground into each other. Every ounce of pent-up passion, adoration, love, and comfort spilling through their very beings with each thrust of Italy's hips and each sigh from Germany's lips. This long held, long unrealized desire saturated crumpled bed sheets with sweat and passion. Such an intimate act so profound and sublime in nature, it left Germany in awe of how Italy was so capable, so impassioned, so ardent. The concept alone proved difficult for her to grasp, but when pleasure mercilessly assaulted her senses with the satisfying sensation of being filled again and again, none of it seemed to matter. All of a sudden, it felt so good being a woman. Who knew being dominated could feel so amazing?

Italy rose off her torso and propped her legs by the knees, watching her intently as he focused all his movements into loving her and pleasuring her unconditionally. She writhed and moaned under his penetrating gaze, her hands flew here and there while her hips continued wiggling in desperate attempts to feel his shaft rub against every inch inside her. It was almost like a new level of voyeurism way beyond his wildest fantasies, but the idea leapt far ahead for every moment he realized that he was the one making her thrash in blissful delirium. He could feel his heart thudding madly out of his chest with every thrust of his hips. Everything felt so out of control...

Neither of them knew how long their lovemaking had endured so far, but nobody really kept track. However, Germany was just beginning to feel the blissful tightening that spread waves from her groin, to her thighs, and slowly through the rest of her thrashing body. Fingers clenched at the sheets beneath her, knuckles whitening from the strain of ecstasy. She wasn't sure if she was quite ready to let go yet—it all just felt too good to end so soon—but her body was slowly slipping. A soft groan fell from her lips—she was about to let go...

"...V-ve..."

Just when her body was just about to release her with an earth-shattering climax, the boy that was just pleasuring her a few seconds ago suddenly collapsed onto her soft chest with a breathless whine. His hips stopped moving altogether, so she was instantly spared from her euphoria, leaving her completely unsatisfied. She attempted to stifle a whimper as her body tried accommodating to the slightly painful tension that failed to be released on cue. And what of the Italian boy on her chest who was currently heaving in oxygen by the gallons? Had he come already?

"Italy...are you okay?" she asked listlessly, her chest also heaving into his from all their previous vigor.

Throughout his heavy breathing, he nodded rapidly against the crook of her neck. "I'm fine...I'm just...taking a break..."

Something about those last few words struck bull's eye in the very center of her temper. A vein instantly strained against her temple damp with sweat, as if in reflex to his recent words. "What do you mean you're 'taking a _break_'?" she asked him, subtly seething in acerbity.

"Ve...Germany...I got tired in the middle—I just need some time to take a breather and then I'll—"

It took him until he felt the thud and weight on his chest to realize that the blonde had swiftly switched their positions, so that she now straddled him. Meanwhile, despite the still overwhelming sensation of having him sheathed deep inside her, behind her eyes she held a piercing glare that almost felt to be burning a hole between his eyes. Italy was struck with horror as she glided her hands along his chest, her glare still in place.

"V-ve...? Germany, what's wrong?"

A low snarl reverberated from her throat, causing him to flinch and cower in the sheets. Feral, she was. "Here we are fucking like rabbits—you drive me up to the brink of total ecstasy and all of sudden you back off just because you're _tired_?"

"But Germany," he whined underneath her, "I just needed a breather! I didn't think this lovemaking stuff was such hard work..."

Her eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. "I cannot believe what I am hearing..."

Brown eyes watched her cautiously as her body left him for a moment, lifting up to release his member back into the cold, unforgiving world—he couldn't help but whine, to which she growled—so that she could urgently search along his bedsides. Although he was cautious as to what move she could lash out on him next with her unexplained fury, Italy certainly enjoyed in the gratuitous view of her backside as she leaned past his bed and into the floor, her head and torso out of his view. Just as he was busy slobbering over the awesome view, she suddenly snapped back up with his previously discarded white shirt gripped tightly in one hand, her lips pursed firmly in a look of disappointment at him. She crawled to him with shirt still in hand, leaving Italy to assume that she might force him to get dressed when they haven't even finished any business yet. What did he do that was so bad?

"Wait—Germany, we're not getting dressed yet, are we? I don't think we're finished yet!" he whined as his hands began flapping about in panic.

Having been caught off guard, Germany swiftly snatched at his bouncing curl, effectively silencing him with a sharp gasp and a shudder as he silently lay back down on his soft bed. She crawled over him, straddling him by the waist with her fingers gripping firmly at his hair as she looked him dead in the eye—there was almost a deviant look behind her blue irises as her grip on his white shirt tightened just a little.

"Ve..." he whispered in worry, his eyes fluttering at the spontaneous waves of pleasure emanating from that blasted strand of hair. She then let go of his curl, only to have both hands grab for Italy's wrist, catching him by surprise. His head frantically shook side to side, watching as she gripped his wrists, and grabbed him upward, pulling him closer to his iron headboard—his mind began spinning in confusion and slight panic.

"Veveve! Germany, wait! What's happening?"

From his sudden outburst, she leaned forward and nipped at his nipple with her teeth, evoking another sharp gasp from the boy, accompanied by a whimper. Blue eyes flashed a hint of concern for a moment in hopes that she hadn't bitten too hard to hurt the boy, although such actions partly did stem from such intentions.

"Not a word," she whispered as her hands began working swiftly, bringing his wrists up to the iron rails of his headboard and crossing them over one on top of the other. With his white shirt still in hand, she began tying giant knots around and over his wrists and into the iron rails, efficiently pinning him to the bed. But wait a minute—was she actually _tying_ him to his own bed? Italy looked behind him as she pulled her hands away to admire her work, his wrists clearly bound to his own headboard. Dear God, she's pulling bondage on him that very moment! He should have expected as much from this femme fatale.

"N-no...What are you—"

"I'm punishing you—what else do you think I'm doing?" she replied coolly, tightening the final knots around his bound wrists. The tone of her words didn't seem too sexual, yet her choice of words sent shivers up his spine. To be bound under Germany's total control was undeniably frightening, yet at that very moment the idea was so arousing to the Italian. He squirmed a little.

"W-why? What did I do wrong?"

She nipped lightly along his collarbone. "I can't believe you...Even during times like these, your endurance still fails!" She rose from his chest and caged him with both arms as she loomed over him. "If you're not even disciplined enough to finish what you've started yourself, then you have no right to partake in any of it."

With that said, she crawled downwards, leaving the poor boy flabbergasted, frightened, and overall _extremely_ aroused. He had no idea what she was planning on doing next—was she going to hit him or simply leave him as is or much worse? As she slowly crawled down along his body, her hands dragged down his chest and stomach, grazing her nails along the way in varying pressures until her hips were once again aligned with his. Bound wrists began struggling. Her torso rose off of his as she stood on her knees above him. On her eyes was a hard glare that reflected her pique over his lack of endurance. However, the deep red hue that began to rise to her cheeks failed to escape him. It was not a flush of arousal—no, he recognized this blush: Germany was about to commit to something too humiliating for her tastes. With realization of her next moves, Italy didn't think of it so much as a humiliating act, rather from the way Germany was awkwardly fumbling her arms, it was definitely something out of her comfort zone. Regardless of whether or not she was comfortable with her own actions, his bulging eyes could not tear away from the sight before him as his chest began heaving breathlessly in total anticipation.

A nimble and slender hand gingerly took hold of his shaft while the other planted itself on his stomach for extra support as she tried aligning herself onto him correctly. He remained intensely observant—just a moment ago, she was so serious and dominating, and now here she was with the cutest look of embarrassment and inexperience written all over her flushed features as nimble fingers gently guided him to her warm passageway. Her brow twitched just slightly as a look of deep concentration spread along her reddened features. A sigh escaped her. Slowly, she lowered her hips back down. Immediately, her body tensed and her breath hitched in her throat, but that didn't stop her. She slowly sank down onto his shaft, not once ceasing any of her movements, the fingers on his stomach clenching and scratching at him involuntarily as a trembling whimper escaped her quivering lips. Obviously, it felt amazing.

Italy, although temporarily blinded by the tight warmth enveloping him once more, could not tear his eyes away from the amazing sight. He tried to distribute his vision so that he could focus on every single part of her figure. The way her muscles shivered and contorted once she fully seated herself on his groin was a complete turn-on—her hips gyrated and wiggled here and there, feeling her push and grind on him with such depth that brought her throwing her head back in ecstasy.

At that moment, he knew exactly what she had intended for him in such a punishment. Desire compelled him to lunge forward and touch her everywhere, but alas, he was held back with a sharp tug at his wrists. He looked up, dumbfounded, as if he had completely forgotten that she had just tied him up for his incompetency and lack of endurance in pleasing her wholeheartedly. He was forbidden to touch her. And with the way she moaned and writhed on his groin as she fervidly kneaded her breast in utter impatience, it was just pure torture.

Of course Germany would think of such ways to torture the poor boy into submission.

As if things could not get any worse for the poor Italian, she began bouncing atop him, swallowing and releasing him in a gradual rhythm. Until this very moment, Italy had never considered it possible to die from desire alone. Aside from the heat rising in his groin, the sight was killing him. For someone as inexperienced as Germany, her hips moved with amazing dexterity—it almost seemed like she was mentally keeping pace. Other than that, the massive weight of her breasts bounced them constantly and rhythmically, and the observation just left him in utter destitution. Fingers clenched and twitched beneath the bindings—the urge to squeeze those mounds of flesh was so strong, it was nearly painful. He now completely understood, with much pain and remorse, exactly how she intended on "punishing" him. To deprive him of his desires in such a teasing manner was just a tad sadistic. He should have expected as much.

"Germany...Germany..." he moaned out constantly, his eyes never leaving her bouncing body. "_Please_...let me touch you..."

In the middle of her selfish ecstasy, she managed to throw him a glare at his audacious request. Blue eyes were darkened in lust as she crawled over him teasingly, her hips isolated in its own wanton grinds. "Oh, please," she chided him. "If I release you now and give you the freedom—_hnn..._you'll only get _tired_ again." She had to pause in her words as she gasped for breath, her senses erotically overwhelmed. "You've..._ahh_...h-had your chance and you blew it."

"No—at this point, even if I wanted to stop, I wouldn't be able to!" he insisted, his eyes following her every movement, bouncing up and down just as she did. "Please...you're driving me _insane_."

She leaned down to lap lasciviously at his pert nipple. "That's perfect," she breathed hotly against his chest in total satisfaction. It was relieving to know that she was actually making him suffer the consequences for his sloth, but her satisfaction was increasingly being focused on her hips with each bounce. Fingernails clawed ecstatically at his chest, a wanton moan torn from her throat. She was close, again. How is it so easy for women to orgasm within only a few minutes in between?

Italy watched desperately as she lifted herself halfway off of him, her arms caging both sides of his ribs. It seemed she couldn't get herself to even look at him. She faced down, eyes shut closed, her breathing left to short gasps of air as all her building ecstasy was focused on the now erratic gyration of her hips. How he wished he could just spring up and help her reach her peak, but such intentions only left his wrists in strain. An enticing moan escaped her wet lips. Perhaps he could try a different approach.

With his eyes still transfixed to her body writhing lewdly atop his, he focused on the rhythm of her hips shortly before experimentally thrusting upwards in time to feel her crashing back down onto his groin. Not only was it satisfying enough for the deprived Italian at the moment, but the reaction he got from her was priceless. The way she threw her head back with a broken gasp as her crystal-blue eyes shot wide open was a reward in itself. He tried it again as she came crashing back down on him, now thrusting into her in a gradual rhythm that harmonized with hers. The blonde thrashed and practically sobbed in pleasure. He was just rubbing her walls in all the right spots.

No longer able to hold her own body up given the tension tightening her muscles, she leaned back down onto his heaving chest and rested her damp forehead onto his collarbone, spreading her knees and her thighs as she resorted to vehement grinds and just let the persistent boy do the rest of the work. It was only a matter of time and a couple of sharp thrusts until soft moans poured out of her throat and onto his collarbone like dripping honey. Her orgasm started off slow, leaving her to simply scratch at the bed sheets, but given that the Italian did not cease his rhythmic thrusts, her bliss grew increasingly violent, sending her body into long shudders as her soft moans grew into high-pitched, wanton mewls of pleasure. The heavenly spasms almost seemed to last forever.

After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, all movement ceased and her body fell limp on his chest with sharp gasps. Aftershocks ran shivers through her lithe body as her lungs resorted to heavy gasps of breath. From underneath her, she could clearly hear her lover's rapid heartbeat, almost lulling her to a sweet slumber as her eyes began fluttering. And from above her, she could hear him whining pitifully as he weakly wriggled beneath her heaving body. Her only assumption: Italy had not had a chance to satisfy himself even once so far. Guilt shocked her awake for at least a brief second before she lazily looked up at him with her crystal-blue eyes half-lidded in total satisfaction. She was immediately met with an expression of utter desperation and frustration as he looked down at her as tears practically rimmed his brown eyes.

"Germany..._please,_" he pleaded, his eyes screwing shut as he gasped for breath. "It hurts..."

She was immediately hit with concern as she rose to quickly unknot him of his thick bindings. "I'm sorry...I got carried away, it seems," she softly apologized as she untangled the last chunky knot around his wrists. Once released, Italy immediately grabbed for her nape and brought her in a hungry kiss. She let him have as much control as he pleased this time; she figured she had put him through enough torture and she herself was pretty winded from her previous climax. He rolled over her, kissing her lovingly and passionately as his hands began wandering all over her again, as if he had been deprived for years from the feel of her firm skin. The blonde sighed in his kisses and brought her arms above her head, stretching her body taut and exposed beneath his palms.

In the midst of her mellow bliss, she felt the hips against hers suddenly spring with a few rapid thrusts, leaving her gasping sharply for air as she tore herself away from his kiss. Italy was briefly dazed with pleasure but stopped his hips upon feeling her palm pressing against his chest as she gasped against the pillows. Firstly, she completely forgot he was still inside of her. Secondly, her last climax had left her _extremely _hypersensitive—those last series of thrusts literally took her breath away and brought shocks through her body much too suddenly.

She looked up at him, her eyes relaxing once again as the hand on his chest pressed lightly. "At ease, soldier," she weakly ordered him.

Italy sighed exasperatedly, forcing his heart to calm itself so that he could let her recover a little more. "Ve...Yes, captain," he breathily replied. Oddly enough, he found this brief boot-camp exchange a little kinky and a little nostalgic between the two of them. He couldn't help but giggle lightly.

Slender fingers combed back sweaty strands of brown as she pulled him back down on her. "Take it slow," she whispered against his lips in between passionate kisses. "Touch me a little more..." she shyly asked him.

"You..._mmn_...won't tie me up anymore, right?" he asked in between kisses with a slight hint of worry.

She pulled away from him briefly. "Only if you promise not to stop in the middle again," she firmly reminded him. "I won't tie you up anymore, but I'll make you run a marathon tomorrow morning if you dare stop again."

"Ve...I'm telling you—at this point, I wouldn't be able to stop even if I wanted to."

She felt her cheeks bunch into a small smile. "Then don't," she whispered in his ear.

Italy smiled in return, pecking her softly on her scarred cheek. A soft gasp left her lips when he pulled out of her, only to dwindle down to shuddering sighs as his lips trailed down from her cheek, down her throat, and along her collarbone. Finger pads skimmed her fair skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Lips left her collarbone and met back with hers. As his hands were left to explore her warm body, he focused on making love to her mouth. Italy knew well after only a month of intimacy with her that a single, lengthy, passionate kiss was enough to heat her up. Germany moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue danced passionately with hers, completely taking her breath away. Hands gently gripped her limber legs and lifted them, skimming all across from her calves to her thighs, but no farther than that. Fingertips drew circles along her inner thighs—he was being a tease. Lips now latched onto her throat, feeling her soft cries reverberating against them.

"More..." she softly pleaded to him.

He chuckled against her throat before meeting her eyes with a smile. "Not yet—for every little time I've done you wrong..." He softly kissed the valley in her chest before continuing. "...let me show you how sorry I am."

She opened her eyes and perked her ears in fascination to what he had to say. His lips trailed along her breasts, conspicuously lingering on her nipples before moving on. "This is for that purple nurple I randomly gave you that one day we were in the _onsen_ together." Germany winced noticeably at the mention of the event—maybe his nipples really were sensitive to begin with. "You were right to punch me in the stomach," he added. She rolled her eyes.

Lips trailed down from her valley down to her stomach, placing soft kisses by her navel. "This is for that one night I had a bad dream and accidentally kicked you in the stomach."

"_Mein Gott_..." she groaned comically. That was one hell of a night for Germany—he actually pulled a pistol on Italy thinking he was a home intruder. With all these weird and random apologies, she was unsure if she was being turned on or just turned off. The feel of his lips on her skin seemed to balance things out, but it wasn't quite getting her anywhere. Somewhere in between her thoughts, Italy rose from her stomach and began adoring her marred cheeks, alternating between skimming his lips across her healing scar and planting gently kisses on her lightening bruise. "This...is for letting France hurt you and violate you that day," he said quietly and rather shakily. He neither heard nor felt much of a response from her, but he continued pouring his heart out anyway. "That never should have happened—I promised nothing like that would happen to you..." His lips hesitantly met with hers, initiating a passionate kiss. He was extremely grateful that she responded vehemently. He pulled away with a sigh. "I want to promise you still, but I'm afraid I won't be able to keep it, again..."

Blue eyes held onto his wide hazel ones, but Italy was unable to hold her gaze given the wave of shame that washed through him. She didn't want to see him like this at all. She felt her hand slowly rise as her fingers reached for his iron cross—all the while, her eyes never left him. "You see this?" she asked him, fingering his necklace in emphasis to her question. He responded with a wondering look. "So long as you are still wearing this, your promise is always kept." His hazel eyes shifted around him, as if he were unsure whether or not he should believe in her words. Her slender fingers then left his necklace to grace either side of his face.

"And if you are here with me," she continued with an unusually tender tone that took Italy aback, "none of that matters anymore—whatever France did or anyone else." Unusually gentle and loving hands slowly stroked the bruised side of his gentle face. He refused to look at her. "Besides..." she continued, now bringing up both hands to have him look her in the eye. He caught sight of the glint of determination behind her blue irises. "That bastard can't break me." He couldn't help but smile. How much he loved Germany had become indescribable.

She suddenly fell silent, the look in her eyes suddenly softening to an unfathomable expression—it seemed blank at first glance, but there was something heavy behind her blue eyes, as if something were waiting for the right time to emerge. His brow furrowed in slight worry as he looked down at her. The fingers stroking his bruised cheek glided further up and tangled into his brown hair. He noticed her lips just starting to move.

"...I love you."

Italy could have sworn his heart stopped at the very mention of those words coming from Germany's lips. After a moment, even she seemed unsure over what she had just uttered to him. The implications had been heavy before, but this was the first time she had actually, directly, and blatantly confessed her love. Italy noticed her blanch for a millisecond before heating up to a glowing scarlet hue once more as a soft gasp left her lips. She looked like she could hardly breathe.

Before Italy could even respond enthusiastically to her confession, the hand in his hair forcefully pushed down, leaving his lips to slam against hers. She breathed him in like life support—there felt to be no stopping her surge of emotions. For once, it seemed Italy could barely keep up with her. He gasped sharply in between kisses, begging her to let him breathe—her fingers were just completely tangled into his hair as she held onto him for dear life. Italy felt he could drown anytime soon in her love, in all her pent up desire; there was just too much of everything she was pouring out to him all at once. His vision was slowly blurring.

Just when his lightheadedness was about to reach a point of no return, she finally pulled him away by the hair. Italy gasped heavily for breath, as did she. As his vision was slowly returning, on her flushed countenance he discovered the happiest, most liberated expression he had ever seen on Germany's face, male or female. He was taken aback by the smile stretched across her scarlet cheeks, but was nonetheless utterly entranced by the very sight and couldn't help but grin madly, himself. "_Anche ti amo_," he mindlessly replied with a soft chuckle, as if still slightly incredulous to her recent words. Italy could barely contain his own happiness.

The hands in his hair glided back down to his cheeks while she cast him a longing look before softly bringing their lips together briefly for another time. Somewhere within that brief kiss, Italy felt her limber legs slowly wrap around his waist, shoving him to total excitement. They shared a lingering gaze before she finally spoke, squeezing her legs around his waist for emphasis, leaving him gasping in delight.

"Inside..." she ordered him barely above a whisper.

Her blatancy made him shiver slightly in efforts of hindering his growing anticipation before slowly nodding in response. Italy pressed their sweaty foreheads together, her hands still gripping his face or onto his hair, their eyes locked as he aligned himself with her once more. Slowly and tentatively he pushed his swollen head inside, his breath hitching with every little centimeter enveloped in warmth by the second.

"Say it again," he heard himself whisper desperately.

Blue irises set ablaze at this very request while her cheeks flushed much more deeply at the sudden surge of emotion. "_Ich liebe dich_...I love you..." she breathed out, almost as if sighing in relief. From the extravagant expression written all along Italy's face, she was nearly convinced he was about to sob in happiness.

An unhindered moan spilled out as he impetuously pushed further into her.

The entire time she attempted to hold his eyes, pleasure etched all over her face as on his. He filled her to the hilt once again that warm afternoon, and soon enough, they moved as one. Her hands, her fingers gripped and clutched onto his hair, face, shoulders, whatever she could grab on to keep him as close to her as possible. She refused to avert her gaze and attempted to keep from squeezing her eyes shut with every sharp wave of ecstasy that would wash through her throughout his blissful thrusting—she did not want to lose sight of his big brown eyes for a single moment. It all eventually became a lost cause as she threw her head back in total delirium and cried out to the dimly sunlit ceiling above her; all the while, Italy ran his tongue up her exposed throat. This blonde was delicious; he loved the taste of every single inch of her skin. Every sigh, every thrust—just about everything that surrounded or entrenched them at that very moment was absolutely and incredibly perfect. Her hips bucked in rhythm with his thrusts, their sighs and their moans mingled in total harmony with the rubbing and smacking of their damp skin, hands ran incessantly across their bodies in utter determination to memorize every single contour and every little flaw and perfection. Her arms wrapped all around and along his shoulders, clinging desperately onto him while he pressed his hot cheek next to hers, his bruise making direct contact with her scar, the dull and subtle throb completely overpowered by the pleasure and happiness they felt from their bodies being meshed together in the most intimate of ways. She leant affectionately into his warmth, her hot breath gracing his ear sent shudders down his spine. Just when she thought she had everything she needed right in her hands, she longed for something a little more. Germany found herself whispering directly into his ear.

"Say my name."

It took Italy quite some moments to gather enough of his senses before pleasing her accordingly. "..._Ludwig_..." he moaned into her ear, sending her trembling as a delighted smile tugged on her flushed cheeks. Fingers gripped tighter into brown strands. Legs tightened around his waist as he incessantly thrust into her warmth. Just as she was utterly pleased to be hearing her name from his mouth, Italy was just as ecstatic in moaning out his true lover's name in total desire. Soon enough, he hoped, Ludwig could be pleasuring him the same way he was doing to her at that moment, and such hopes excited him deeply. "Again," she whispered back fervently, the smile refusing to leave her delighted countenance. She felt totally delirious beneath him. His tongue ran along her ear. "_Lud...wig_..." he repeated heatedly in her ear, breaking her true name into solid and slow syllables.

"_Ja_..." she moaned wantonly, arching into him as her legs practically asphyxiated him. There was a burning below her waist and around her thighs that left her completely helpless as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. "Italy...I'm almost..." she warned him breathily.

"G-Germany...wait—not yet..." he pleaded to her in sharp gasps. "Together...Not yet..."

A sob tore from her throat as she tried to hold on just a bit longer. Italy could feel her nails scratching desperately against his scalp. "I-I can't...it's too good..." She placed their foreheads together, hands laced in his hair as her abdomen twisted and trembled. It seemed there was no stopping it—Italy didn't dare stop, but instead continued vehemently, watching her beautifully contorted features as the frightening frequency of her panting hinted at her arriving climax. Her vocal cords were practically squeaking in time with his rapid thrusting. If he couldn't come with her, then at least he could once more marvel at the sight before him as he once again brought her crashing down in euphoria. With that, he watched affectionately, his hips never once deterring in pace, only increasing in speed.

Soon enough, he felt her collapse all around him, every single muscle inside her tightening beautifully. He felt he could spend an eternity just watching her face twist in ecstasy as desperate cries spilled from her mouth, her inner walls massaging him blissfully. Her fingers almost tore at his hair as her body shook in sharp spasms. It wasn't until, in the middle of her violent euphoria, she violently tugged at a fistful of hair where his curl sat when Italy felt sharp electrical shocks coursing through all his nerves. He came with a sudden force that left him unprepared and gasping for breath, all the while he continued to watch her face in ecstasy. It wasn't quite simultaneous, but it was close enough, and it was certainly nothing short of pure heaven. They shook and ground almost violently into each other's bodies, attempting to get so much closer than they already were. Somewhere in the middle of his ecstasy as he emptied himself, he could hear her melodious voice cry out to him as she rode out the last few waves of her orgasm.

"_Yes...Feliciano...Ahh..._"

If he could, he'd love to come all over again just from those sounds she just breathed out. He moaned into her mouth as he brought their faces closer, not quite kissing, but just breathing in each other in desperate gasps. The quakes seemed to last an eternity and yet they felt it all ended much too quickly. Tremors wracked through his weak and strained muscles as Italy collapsed on top of her with a satisfied groan. Germany's legs around his waist loosened, but her heels remained locked around him—how much would she love to be wrapped around him like this forever. In the midst of their pleasant aftershocks and heavy breathing, they both managed to open their eyes as their visions cleared, only to be met by each other's glazed gazes. They remained this way for a few moments, purposefully drowning themselves in each other's eyes, until Germany broke out one of her rare and certainly entrancing smiles. It wasn't the strained and frightening kind that she would force out upon request—no, it was a sincere and utterly mesmerizing smile that Italy would doubtlessly kill or die for. He imprinted the image in his mind and swore he would never forget such a beautiful face. If that wasn't enough, a nearly delirious-sounding chuckle broke free from her throat as she plopped back down on the pillows, arms carelessly thrown to either side of her head in total satisfaction.

"_Mein Gott, Italien_...That was _wunderbar_..."

Italy was a little taken aback by her unusual reaction, but given how heavenly it all was, he couldn't help but agree and laugh as well as he rested his head on her shoulder. He relished in the way their chests made contact, heaving into each other as their laughs mingled then dwindled. Her fingers began stroking his hair affectionately and absentmindedly, nearly lulling him into another siesta. Just before his mind drifted off into dreamland, she tugged lightly on his hair with a slight bit of urgency.

"Hey..." she called out to him quietly.

He rose and met her with a drowsy but satisfied expression. "Ve? What's wrong?"

"Hurry up and pull out of me—I don't want a dirty condom wedged in my lady-parts."

Italy's face blanched. "V-ve..." Even after such earth-shattering lovemaking, Germany was still as frank as ever.

::::::::::::::::::::

An acute pain shot through Prussia from the pit of his stomach all throughout his body, causing the Benz to swerve dangerously for a brief moment. The two hostages bound in the back seat squealed through their gags as they wriggled frantically in fear and protest of their captor's sudden and reckless driving. The albino paid no heed to his prisoners' muffled wails in the back seat as he struggled to regain his composure and bring the vehicle back under control. As he continued driving down the nearly empty highway framed by shady oak trees, he felt his left hand fall somewhere along his chest and his stomach as he tried calming his frenzied nerves.

"My big-brother senses are tingling..." he heard himself whisper in sudden concern for his precious West. The last thing he'd want to come home to was to find his little sister hurt or violated again. And yet, just as quickly as his intuition went haywire, it suddenly calmed to a soothing serenity, as if whatever it was that suddenly worried him was really of very little significance or concern, almost like a false alarm. His brow furrowed in wonder as to what that weird sensation was, but he figured it would probably answer itself once he made it back home with his prizes in hand. Maybe his sister was really alright and that he was just worrying too much.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **and here we go~ :D

chapter title = "Honey" ...y'know—"Milk" & "Honey"? yeah, it makes better sense now, right? :'D idk...anyway, this has certainly been an interesting saga, don't you agree? :3 i had one review that commented how my eye for detail is so acute that she wondered if it all stemmed from first-hand experience, and you have no idea how hard i blushed at that assumption (o\\\\o") i wasn't entirely sure if i should be flattered or flat-out embarrassed lol 6("—▽—)

speaking of reviews, there was another one that compelled me to voice out something that stems from a few chapters back (i don't remember if i mentioned it already, but i'll do it again just in case :P)—i _don't_ hate France! i **LOVE** France! that's why when i received a bunch of reviews that talked about how much my description of him fueled their hate towards him, i was pretty ashamed D: i'm not trying to make France look so incredibly evil, but Germany and France did have some sort of beef with each other, so i found it fitting. anyway, i _loooove_ France, do not forget that! XD

maybe i'll start writing out the next chapter somewhere in the middle of this week, but it may take a while longer. after all, it _is_ college app season, and that will make me a sufficiently busy prospective transfer student. "OTL

i thank you in advance for your patience and any reviews you would love to give me~!


	16. Das Versprechen

**Chapter 16 - Das Versprechen**

The warmth of the afternoon radiated all throughout the wide kitchen space, but had little effect on the refreshing chill the bowl of gelato left on Germany's fingertips. She took slow spoonfuls of the sweet treat as she intriguingly watched her brown-eyed lover carefully pull out a tray of garlic bread from his clay oven. It wasn't so much the baking of the bread that she paid interest to, but the paradoxical grace of Italy's still clumsy movements that intrigued her. He was careful enough to keep from burning himself when pulling out the piping hot tray, but none of it would have mattered had he not caught himself the second his foot caught on the kitchen rug, leaving Germany to all but roll her eyes. If anything, she was just grateful that after their recent rutting in his bedroom, Italy decided to at least get to baking bread with one article of clothing properly concealing his vitals.

Mindlessly leaning her head on one elbow, she watched him place the tray on the granite counter, all the while pondering over the last hour that had carelessly passed her, when they lay on the tousled king-sized bed, bathing in the afternoon glow and the afterglow of their lovemaking. She figured Italy would suggest a post-sex snack, considering how much stamina he had to conjure solely in order to properly satisfy his blonde lover. Germany could not get herself to disregard the idea—she was pretty winded, herself.

But the wonder lay in what could possibly be running through the brunette's mind pertaining to what they had agreed to as he animatedly fanned away the excess heat from the freshly-baked garlic bread. From the motions of his normally clumsy movements, it almost seemed as if the extremely intimate act they had recently performed failed to faze him whatsoever. Germany was unsure whether she should be amazed or offended.

"Ve~ The bread is ready!" he chimed as he cheerily swiped a seat on the barstool next to the blonde's. By then, she had just finished her bowl of gelato and wouldn't have minded a bite of the garlic bread if it weren't for her puzzled feelings over what happened in the last hour. Even the look of puzzlement brought down Italy from his cheery state to that of worry.

"Germany? You okay?"

It took the blonde a few seconds to even regain awareness of her surroundings. The vivid images of writhing and moaning could not quite leave her mind as quickly as she had hoped, but a single shake of her blonde crops did just the trick.

"Y-Yeah...I'm fine, it's just...I'm a little distracted, I guess," she sighed with a slight hint of embarrassment.

There followed a moment of silence...then a small snicker.

"...Have you been thinking about it?"

Blue eyes set ablaze as the blonde shot the Italian a frighteningly murderous stare, but even that couldn't scare away his amusement. The very subtle traces of a grin remained on Italy's cheery face. "N-No...of course not! What kind of perverted person would dwell on something...erm—like that...?"

Another moment of silence followed. Brown eyes penetrated the blushing blonde, who had long looked away from the moment she attempted saving face.

"Ve...We just had sex, Germany. If it's still on your mind, that's perfectly normal, if you ask me," he managed to explain with a subtle hint of amusement.

Swiftly as her poor flustered self could allow, she quickly hid her face beneath her arms on the granite counter top to conceal the great amounts of embarrassment that washed through her, as a strained and muffled cry emerged from underneath her arms. "No—this is _far_ from normal! Agh!"

Italy couldn't help but giggle at her usual demeanor, but he also couldn't help but worry about how she felt over what they had done. By instinct, he slowly leaned over and wrapped his arms around her shielded figure, placing soft, comforting kisses all along her nape and shoulders.

"There's no need to be embarrassed," he whispered lovingly.

"I-I know, but...I can't help it," a muffled reply emerged.

His line of kisses briefly stopped above her ear as he contemplated his next question.

"Do you...regret what we did?" he asked her slowly, caution hidden beneath his low whisper. He waited patiently as she sat motionless beneath him, her face still hidden beneath her arms. The only thing that gave Italy assurance was the soft rise and fall of her back as her breathing steadily continued.

Finally, after a moment of nerve-wracking silence, he finally felt her slowly but surely shake her head and heard her muffle from beneath her arms, "I don't..."

He couldn't help but smile against her ear before kissing her hair. "...I'm glad."

At those words, she finally rose again and took her lover by surprise as she gently gripped his cheeks and brought him forward into a soft and loving kiss. "...I don't regret any of it," she softly and bashfully whispered against his lips. She felt his lips smile against hers immediately in response.

"Well, that's a relief," he whispered back.

There was uncertainty as to what she should say after, but she decided that silence would probably work best—there was nothing more that Germany would ask for than to stare at Italy's cheerful smile for another eternity. Unfortunately, eternity had to wait right after the brunette gently pulled away from her unusually gentle hands.

"Ve~ Germany, go ahead and take a bite. I'm gonna take a peeee."

As he ran off into the adjacent hallway to the nearest bathroom, his loosely-clad boxers attempting to keep up. With her brow scrunched in total incredulity, she was left with no other reaction but to sigh and lean her forehead on one hand. She deemed that hoping Italy would one day be able to read the atmosphere properly was becoming increasingly futile.

With one last skeptic look at the tray of freshly baked garlic bread, Germany slowly leaned over the counter and carefully tore off a small piece with her nimble fingers. She nibbled at it, aimlessly staring out into the expanse of Italy's kitchen with enduring thoughts of what may come after she returns to her own home—what would become of the two of them now? What would become of them after she finds a solution to her month-long gender problems? What, in the good Lord's name, should she tell her brother once he returns from his conference? The lone idea of even mentioning to her brother about how she had performed intercourse with her ally sent cold shivers of intense worry down her spine as she swallowed her snack.

If that idea wasn't enough to worry her, the sound of the front door opening abruptly followed by a disgruntled male voice certainly caught her by surprise.

"Feliciano, you bastard!"

Speaking of short-tempered older brothers, Romano had just returned. How was he supposed to react to finding that his younger brother snuck his female friend inside their house while he was away? But what in the world was_ she_ supposed to do about it? Hide?

Disregarding the piece of bread that fell from her fingers to the floor and the array of crumbs that left the granite countertop a mess, she suddenly bolted up and looked all around her, attempting to conjure her next move as she heard heavy footsteps fast approaching the kitchen walkway. Somehow, reason managed to escape her as feet quickly shuffled her to the very walkway where Romano was fast approaching. It was no wonder she nearly ran into him in a mess of carelessness, completely catching the elder Italian by total surprise.

"What the Jesus—" the brunette exclaimed in total shock. Germany all but slightly squeaked, holding back the shock of nearly colliding head first into her lover's brother. But what now that she had just been discovered? Amidst the shock, she could clearly see Romano's own state of shock as his widened brown eyes slowly travelled down the blonde's glowing body, which was covered in nothing but one of his younger brother's white button-ups—even those couldn't hold up to her massive chest. By reflex, she found herself yanking embarrassedly at the bottom hem of the shirt, trying to conceal as much of her already exposed thighs as she possibly could, all to no avail—Romano was already beet red from visually roaming the exposed flesh of her thighs. There was only so much she could say in such an awkward situation.

"He...hello again," she croaked in humiliation.

With a quick glance of her blue eyes, she immediately noticed the way Romano's brow twitched violently in shock, disbelief, and other unmentionable emotions that could leave him losing all control in any second. She found her hands nervously motioning in circles beyond her awareness and herself mumbling in attempt to hide the real explanation for her appearance. She was making very little progress for herself.

"I...I know this looks awfully suspicious, b-but...you misunderstand!"

Romano gave her no word of reply, not even a mutter. His wide brown eyes simply bore down on her lazily concealed figure, his brow still twitching occasionally. Just when Germany thought she could no longer take anymore of this awkward situation, her ears picked up the sound of rapid footsteps coming from the hallway further down. She was unsure whether to view this timing as a blessing or a disaster waiting to break loose.

Italy hummed cheerily as he practically skipped into the living room where he was met with much surprise after seeing his elder brother standing still as stone by the kitchen entryway. He paid very little heed to how he eyed Germany so uncertainly.

"Ve~ Brother, you're home early!" he chimed nonchalantly. Germany eyed him a quick warning look as she felt an eyebrow shoot warily up her forehead. When will he ever learn how to read the atmosphere?

Finally, Romano's voice cracked to an unusually low whisper. "Feliciano...why is she here?"

Italy cocked his head innocently to the side, as if he wasn't quite sure how to answer his question or he was wondering why he was asking something seemingly obvious in the first place.

"...Well, Germany wanted to pay me a visit, so here she is."

Romano continued his interrogation with a quick purse of his lips. "...And why is she dressed in nothing but your shirt?"

'_Oh Gott, please make up something, please make up something, please, for the love of Christ...'_ she pleaded desperately in her mind.

Italy shrugged innocuously. "Well, it took me a long time to get her clothes off, so to save her time from putting them all back on, I lent her a shirt of mine instead."

Germany groaned in near pain as she immediately palmed her face. "_Ach...mein Gott_!" she muffled in frustration.

As Germany struggled to hide her misery and humiliation, Romano's brown eyes widened, his nostrils flared. His brow suffered erratic spasms as he slowly comprehended his brother's words.

"Why exactly did you have to take her clothes off?" he asked in a near snarl.

"Umm...isn't that what people do first when they make lo—mff!"

Before Italy could even finish his question, Germany, quick as lighting, shoved her palm over his incessantly running mouth. But she was much too late—on Romano's face was an expression so frighteningly blank, she was left to consider taking shelter behind a heavy piece of furniture with her lover on her shoulder, lest they get caught in the explosion that's about to occur.

"...So," he began in a deathly whisper, "this is what you do while I'm away? Sneak in girls and fool around as you wish?"

Despite her desperation, Germany felt there was still a way to save the situation at hand. "T-trust me! It's really not as it seems! I..I..."

What story could she possibly improvise for the time being, she was unsure, but anything worked for her if it meant saving someone's life or sanity. "I-I came over to help for dinner! And...and I spilled red wine on much of my clothes! I can be clumsy that way, you see. A-and so, your brother here...um, he was kind enough to—to lend me his clothes!"

Her efforts were to no avail. "There is absolutely no way I can believe that crap," he snarled as he began with a near running charge towards his silenced brother. At that very moment, defensive instinct had overcome Germany. She was unsure what happened exactly, but the next thing she knew, her hands had left Italy's body and firmly and insistently planted themselves on the plane of Romano's chest as he just lifted his fist in the air to collide into his brother's slack jaw. She didn't apply enough force to topple the raging Italian onto his bottom, but it was enough to leave him frozen in his tracks as he was forced to confront her pleading blue eyes.

"You can't hurt your little brother for this!" she pleaded in an unusual tone she herself could not recognize. "None of this was his fault—if you're going to blame someone for his mishaps, blame me! I was the one who chose to visit him in the first place!" Germany had absolutely no idea where she was taking her words from—they just spilled from her lips in a fit of urgency. There was no way she could let Romano hurt Italy, regardless of reasons given. In the meantime, Romano's hard and ruthless stare quickly filled with a mix of suspicion and confusion, leaving Germany no other choice but to continue.

"So...go ahead and punish me for depriving your little brother of his innocence. I...I just couldn't help myself at the time." She blushed immensely from those last few words of her admitted desire that she managed to utter, but held her gaze steady nonetheless.

Moments passed between them—Romano lay still in what Germany assumed to be shocked, his fist still in midair ready at any time to come crashing down on Italy's jaw, while the blonde continued to stand her ground. At some point, Romano slowly lowered his now quivering fist and slowly opened it up to cover his face with his palm. Germany's shoulders relaxed as she slightly lowered her guard. She eyed the elder Italian wearily as his palm remained over his face and his other hand rested upon his hip. Her ears perked up at the sound of dense muffles emerging from beneath his palm. Had she not been mistaken, she swore she could have heard something around the lines of, "There's no way in hell I would've been able to say 'no,' either," which left her blushing even harder than before and scrunching her shoulders in defensive reflex of embarrassment.

Amidst her fluster and Italy's obliviousness, Romano released his face with a loud and frustrated groan. "G-Goddammit, I don't give a fuck anymore!" he shouted in a fluster of defeat as he stormed off towards the door he first came bursting through. "Do what you want with each other! Like I give a shit!" he added bitterly on his way out.

Vengeful stomps were followed by the heavy slam of the front door as Romano left the couple alone once more, astonished and flabbergasted in the middle of the wide living room. The two of them remained where they stood, letting silence fill up all the empty crevices for another moment or so save for the soft sound of Italy's unreasonably steady breathing. Without warning, Germany's legs gave out as her bottom lightly made contact with the floor, leaving the brunette in sudden worry.

"V-Ve! Germany!" he exclaimed as he crouched down after her. As he placed both his hands on each shoulder, he watched worriedly as the blonde then brought her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them while placing her face deep into herself, letting out another despairing groan laced with a sprinkling of German curses.

"V-Ve..."

With a long, dragged-out, and almost painful-sounding sigh, she brought herself to slowly turn her head to face her concerned brunette, who sat right next to her. He watched her brow scrunch in frustration. "Why...Just—why couldn't you just make up something else?" She groaned again. "Your brother could've killed you, or me even, for God's sake..."

There was a puzzled look that spread from Italy's brow as he tried comprehending Germany's vain pleas. His eyes roamed around for a moment as he pursed his lips pensively before conjuring up a response. "Well, I don't really like lying to my brother because whenever I do he ends up finding out anyway and I get into even more trouble that way."

Such an innocuous answer left Germany in a state of incredulity. Her blue eyes squinted momentarily as if asking her lover "Are you kidding me?" She stared at him in astonishment for another moment before snorting comically and bringing her head back into her knees. "You're like a five-year-old!" she exclaimed from underneath her arms, leaving her remark muffled and hindered. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

Italy sighed through his nose upon hearing such a familiar question before letting a small and careless smile crack. He then sat himself comfortably next to his scrunched-up lover and carefully wrapped his arms around her figure, nuzzling his soft brunette hair into her short blonde tresses. "I'm sorry~" he replied innocently. "Maybe you could teach me how to be a better liar for your sake?" he suggested to her playfully as he placed kisses just above her ear.

Germany tilted her head just enough so that she could take a good look into his happy hazel eyes. "I'll make sure I remember to add it to the long list of other things that you still haven't successfully learned from me," she retorted with a slight hint of ease, leaving Italy to simply giggle. "And thanks for protecting me from my brother. I really don't know how I could ever get around without you, Germany."

She couldn't stop a small smile from creeping along her cheeks, despite the imminent roll of her eyes. "We both know it's nothing new." They snuggled comfortably on the floor for another moment before Germany softly mentioned another concern. "...I wouldn't know how to handle the situation if ever _my_ brother were to find out, though," she mentioned truthfully.

The very realization left Italy tense as fear ran down his spine. He clearly knew of the terrible things Prussia was capable of after what France had done to his precious sister. "V-v-ve..."

::::::::::::::::::::

"Yes, yes, I'm on my way!" Austria huffed as he scuffled his way from the salon into the lobby. Lately he felt nothing could ruin his day faster than any kind of interruption to his reading sessions. Upon reaching the front door, he hastily undid the locks before swinging the door open in a fit of frustration. But that unreasonable fit was immediately quelled upon realizing who had come to bother his solace in the first place.

"Ve..."

"Sorry for the trouble—I was in such a hurry when I left earlier today, I didn't even realize I had left my keys behind," the blonde muffled apologetically. It took Austria a few seconds to give a coherent reply—he hadn't even realized Germany had crept out earlier that day. "N-No, it's not a problem at all. It was just fortunate that I happened to be here, that's all."

An uncharacteristic chuckle escaped the blonde. "You're always here—you never go out," she remarked playfully, catching Austria off guard for a moment. "Well, no need for the sassiness here, miss," he retorted more so in shock than offense as he stepped aside to give the couple room to walk into the house. He watched with intrigue how they walked past him with their hands and fingers tightly laced together, leaving him to smile momentarily as a sigh of relief went past his nostrils. Clearly, within the time Germany had quietly left her room and walked out the front door, they had settled their differences.

"Have the two of you eaten supper yet?" he asked in his usual courtesy as he gently closed the front door behind him. "I regret to tell you that nothing has been prepared yet."

"That's probably because I haven't been home to make anything," Germany added sarcastically, leaving Austria to simply roll his eyes at her implications. "That's fine," she then said with a shrug. "Italy and I had made supper at his place before making our way over, so there is no need. That is, unless you still need me to make _you_ supper." She slowly turned to face Austria with a questioning and challenging look on her face. Austria scoffed in response. "I will just prepare something myself," he insisted.

"In that case, please refrain from setting the kitchen ablaze."

"Oh, for goodness sake..." he responded in mild offense, nevertheless with a slight hint of worry behind his eyes—cooking was not exactly his most refined of skills.

"Ve, where is Prussia?" Italy asked in attempts to prevent Germany from making any more sneering remarks on Austria's cooking skills or lack thereof, but more so in hopes that the elder German had yet to return that night—he wasn't quite ready to deal with his lover's older brother just yet. The very question struck Germany in realization.

"That's right...has _Bruder_ returned yet?"

Austria began striding past them making his way towards the salon as he gave a straightforward answer. "Unless he had decided to sneak from underneath my nose and into his room and return without informing, then no, I have not been informed of his return yet. He still must be busy in Morocco as we speak."

"I see..."

"My assumption is that he should be back within a week. But in all honesty, I would not mind if his return was delayed a little while longer for the sake of my sanity." The aristocrat's chiding remarks were only met by a light roll of blue eyes.

"Well then," he continued as he impatiently pushed up his glasses and cleared his throat. "I am going to assume that the two of you would like to spend the rest of your night alone, so with that, I will be on my way to finish this book while that damn _Prueßen _is still nations away from this house. If you would excuse me..." With that, Austria continued his way past the couple and headed back to the salon as he had originally intended.

Italy cocked his head in concern. "Ve...Austria isn't upset about anything, is he?"

Germany rolled her eyes again. "Not at all—he just doesn't feel like having anyone's company in the meantime, and understandably, he just happens to be extra sensitive around couples." She could not help but blush lightly at the mention of the word "couple" coming from her lips. The brunette immediately took note of it and lightly squeezed her hand as a gesture of affection.

"What are you blushing about?" he teased her.

"I-it's nothing..." Before he could have any more time to tease her, Germany quickly cleared her throat and continued with whatever she had to suggest at the top of her head. "D-do you want to sit out in the backyard? Or..."

Her suggestion was met with a sweet smile, one that did nothing to help her already reddened cheeks. "Ve...that sounds like a great idea."

::::::::::::::::::::

After about half an hour of sitting on one of their white garden benches, Germany had never been more grateful for her and Austria's meticulousness, especially in the area of gardening. Flower arrangements and regular trimming and hedging were certainly of vital importance in maintaining their backyard's beauty, but whoever's idea it was, placing benches each facing east and west so that the sunrise may be viewed sitting on one and the sunset on the other was certainly a genius idea.

She relished every moment of it—the sun slowly inching downwards into the thick silhouetted greenery that made up the Black Forest; the way the orangey-purple sunlight draped along the myriad flowers colored in purples, reds, blues, and yellows set ablaze underneath a light hue of a soft fire; the way her lover's warm and comforting arms wrapped around her slender female shoulders as she succumbed and scrunched further into his tenderness. Italy took a good, long look at the beauty underneath his arm, admiring the way the color of the flowers brightened her already-bright blue irises and the way the fiery glow of the setting sun radiated warmth in touch and tone to her normally porcelain skin. He felt he could look at her forever.

Oblivious to her lover's heavy, admiring gaze, she leant her head onto his chest, the sound of his soft breathing and steady heartbeat relaxing her completely as she proceeded to wrap her arms around his waist. She was unsure of what she should pay attention to: the setting sun and her glowing backyard oasis or the feel of her lover's warmth all around her. It was certainly a hard call.

In between moments of gazing into the beautiful scenery and his beautiful blonde, Italy would take sips of his wine with his free hand and set it back down onto the tiled coffee table right beside him just so that he could have his extra arm to wrap around his lithe German. The moment felt much too perfect to make any sort of disturbance. Either of them had felt a slight need to make mention of anything that may potentially start a conversation just for the sake of hearing each other's voices, but they just felt much too lost in the moment and in each other to even make efforts. If only they had eternity to live for.

Amidst the comforting silence, the image of the setting sun suddenly had Germany's mind running. The thought of the simple concept of night into day and day into night brought her into a sudden realization that, no matter how much they may both wish for it, they do not have an eternity. Should the day miraculously arrive when she returns back to her normal male body, she will be unable to help but feel uncertain. Blue eyes stared off with worry into the purpling sky as she let out a deep sigh that unintentionally captured her lover's interest.

"...Germany...?" he softly called out to her with a light squeeze of her shoulders. After a short moment, she brought herself to slowly lock eyes with him, the intensity of her gaze catching the brunette off guard. She pursed her lips and averted her eyes for a quick second as she attempted to gather her thoughts.

"Italy...let's say the sun sets tonight and rises tomorrow just like it always does, but when it rises...Lucia is no longer beside you." She had to inhale deeply before continuing on. "What will you do then?" she asked him softly yet intensely as she brought herself to lock eyes with him and see how he would react. She found his eyes wide open and staring intently back into hers, his brow was scrunched slightly in a mix of confusion and mild incredulity.

He knew the blonde was in need of an immediate answer, but he couldn't quite get himself to mouth his thoughts as quickly as they ran. How could she possibly even _think _that he would ever leave her side? The two of them have formed a pact—under oath, honor, and the sincerest pinky promise between any two people, Italy is obliged to stay with Germany through thick and thin. So why was she even asking him this?

"I made a pact with you, Germany. You know I will always stick with you under any circumstance."

The blonde's brows furrowed in disapproval. "You know that isn't what I'm referring to—the pact doesn't matter right now." She straightened herself up so that she could level her eyes with her lover's, desperately hoping that he would give her the answer she has been longing to hear. The steady sound of a deep sigh emitting from her lover struck her with great concern—what if he could not guarantee her everything that she had hoped for?

The brunette averted his gaze for a moment, taking more time to properly word his response. Those extra seconds only made Germany all the more nervous. With a heavy sigh, he held her gaze once more. "I love you, Germany. And I will stick by your side no matter what happens to you." He paused for a moment as a sweet chuckle overcame him—there was an inexplicable joy that coursed through his veins as he expressed his love and dedication to her. "I'll be crazy enough to say that you could become a cat or a fish for all I care! Whatever you become, even when you turn back into the same macho, manly Germany I've always known, I will still love you." He twisted his waist a little as he further wrapped his arms around her feminine frame and nuzzled into her blonde tresses. "In fact, I miss the old Germany. I don't think I would be any happier when the day comes that I get to see again the Germany I've always known."

Having finally expressed everything he had wanted her to hear, he pulled away slightly to see how Germany would react. Despite the extremely heartfelt response that the brunette himself uttered, Germany looked unfazed as she steadily held his gaze with her blue eyes. Italy's brow furrowed in worry—is there a possibility that she still does not trust him completely? Contrary to Italy's worries, Germany's heart was actually beating uncontrollably from beneath her chest.

Italy had just confirmed his love for her. There was no longer any need for her to worry. Italy would be there for her. Italy would _always_ be there for her. If ever Germany lost her lovely feminine guise, Italy would still be there. She was overjoyed beyond comparison to the point where she was completely lost for words.

"Germany...? You aren't still mad at me are you? Please, just trust in me—"

Italy's pleas had been cut off when Germany flung herself upon his unsuspecting body, leaving him to nearly topple over and fall of the bench with an overjoyed blonde in his arms. After straightening himself and having realized that Germany was not angry or untrusting at all, rather extremely happy and satisfied with his answer, he responded sheepishly to her excessive affection by wrapping his arms around her figure, relishing in the feel of her deeply nuzzled into his neck as she continuously inhaled his scent. She breathed in every ounce of him, let her hands press themselves firmly onto his back as she pulled him in as close as possible. The sun was near disappearing behind the silhouetted backdrops of the woods, but whatever warmth left the air around her, she still felt emanating from the Italian wound up in her arms. He was real. This love was real. And for that single moment, that was all that mattered to her.

Italy closed his eyes, relishing in the same magical moment as his lover was experiencing. He smiled into her soft blonde hair. "I love you. I've always loved you. I was foolish not to have realized it until now. _Mi dispiace_. I don't know how to stop being a fool."

Such an apology only left her to chuckle into his neck. "No, no you don't. But that's fine. That's just..." He felt her arms wrap around him even tighter. "That's just fine with me," she whispered tenderly.

This joy was overwhelming, and Italy needed to do something about it. He slowly leaned in further into her, nudging her temple with warm, inviting lips. She felt warmth and softness graze against her temple, bringing her to lift her head and meet his eyes. But instead of being met with his gaze, she was met with his gentle lips taking her own for himself.

A subtle chill invaded the air as the sun finally set into the Black Forest, leaving behind a stippled blend of purple and orange in its wake, but that was not enough to quell the burning passion between the two. Stars slowly appeared and began to dot the sky little by little as Italy continued to express as much of his love as he possibly could. His lips still felt as soft and inviting to her as they did when they first kissed like this. That same night that would forever be embedded in her memory was being played out again right at that very moment. She could feel it flowing from his body and into her very soul—the mutual affection, the utter confidence in knowing that he felt exactly the same as she did. All their feelings flowing through that single kiss. It was nothing short of euphoric.

With a sharp gasp of breath, they pulled away from each other, unsure of whom it was that dared break such passion. Italy gently laced his fingers into her blonde tresses as he pressed their foreheads together, the both of them softly heaving in a brief and ecstatic moment of breathlessness. They locked gazes for another moment before Germany finally found the breath she needed to speak softly.

"It's getting dark..."

She caught the subtle sadness that washed over her lover's face as he read through her implications. "I should be heading home soon, then," he mentioned sadly.

From underneath his palm, Italy could feel the blonde shake her head slightly in disapproval towards his words. After all that had been said and done, confirmed and established, Germany simply could not get herself to allow him to leave her side.

"No. Just..." She paused for a moment to consider whether or not her following choice of words were at all morally sound, but then reasoned her way out considering the crimes that the two of them had committed together at that point. "Stay the night. Stay with me," she pleaded to him softly as she stroked strands of brown.

She felt her cheeks heat up as she watched a small grin slowly form across his face. But it came as quickly as it went when Italy gave such a tempting request a second thought. "W-would your brother be okay with that?" he asked cautiously.

"My brother's not here and neither is he in charge," she immediately insisted. "And even if he were to come home to you and I sleeping under the same covers..." Italy watched with amusement as a small smirk came and left her feminine features. "...he'll have to deal with me."

::::::::::::::::::::

It was already exciting enough for Italy to realize that he finally had gotten a woman in his bed earlier that day, but to then find himself on a woman's bed in the hours following is like the icing on a cupcake. He sat cross-legged with his back lightly pressed against the headboard as his head slowly maneuvered itself for him to curiously eye his surroundings. As expected, Germany's room was well-kept and meticulously organized. He brought his knees further into his body, mindlessly rubbing his foot as he began to scrutinize each of the little pieces of furniture and knick-knacks that could be found in certain areas of her room. Brown eyes roamed along her bookshelves, giving a second to each spine as he read through titles and authors. Unsurprisingly, much of these books consisted of manuals on a various range of subjects, from artillery assembly to the proper approach on diplomatic relations. As he roamed each shelf, his eyes would occasionally come across one wooden animal carving after another. What particularly caught his eye, however, was the wooden carving of a little boy and a little girl in _hosen _and _trachten_ holding hands as they carelessly smiled away their worries. Just as Italy felt a smile creeping upon his face upon seeing such a sweet carving, the sudden chime of the cuckoo clock made him jump and nearly shriek in excessive surprise.

After having calmed his fragile heart down, he took a glance at the culprit of a cuckoo clock and realized that it had just chimed ten o'clock. It was about time for the two of them to get sleeping. Just as he began to wonder what was taking Germany so long, she walked right through her bedroom door as if she had just heard his thoughts. She strolled in with a small face towel slung over her shoulder, strands of blonde slightly wet from her brief freshening-up. Something about her night clothes intrigued Italy—they consisted of merely a buttoned up pajama top and regular blue boxers that, given the way it hung loosely along her hips, must have belonged to the male Germany. Something about her clothes gave Italy an instant image of the Germany he's used to sleeping next to, yet all but a slender feminine figure is filling in those familiar clothes.

The blonde walked up to the bed, neatly placing her face towel atop a chair by her study. As Italy watched her motions, his eyes then came across the photo framed on her study. It was a photo of the two of them taking a break in the training fields. His smile was as wide as usual while Germany gave a look of surprise and irritation—the entire image itself was pretty comical, he thought. Despite the irritation evident on Germany's face in the photo, it touched Italy's heart that she would even to keep it, and let alone frame it on his study. It comforted him deep down to know that Germany cared very much for him despite all the trouble he has caused him. He didn't even have an idea that he was smiling whimsically at his own thoughts until Germany threw a curious look at his direction as she was getting herself in bed with him.

"What's with that smile?"

"Huh...? O-oh! Nothing, I just thought of something funny that happened, you know...some time ago."

Blue eyes narrowed in a semi-suspicious look for another moment before finally letting go when Italy gave a wide and sheepish grin. She let a soft sigh escape her and felt her eyes roll in habit as she leaned over near the edge of the bed to turn off the bedside lamp. Immediately after her bedroom went awash in darkness, she felt arms instantly cling onto her slender figure as a brief shriek reached her ears. She sighed heavily—she should have expected as much from Italy. It didn't bother her as much as it usually would this time, however. She was just glad to have him in bed cuddled next to her once more.

Germany twisted her body so that she could face the brunette in the darkness and protectively wrap her arms around his body. "Shh...it's ok. I'm here..." The sound of Germany's lush, feminine voice lowered to a mere whisper graced the shell of Italy's ears before feathering its way into his head, allowing his body to relax completely in her comfort and protection. And yet something still felt amiss.

"That should be my line," he whispered in embarrassment over his lack of bravery over matters as childish as a fear of the dark.

"It's really _my _line. It always has been..." she responded softly as she lovingly stroked strands of brunette. A soft chuckle cut through the darkness and reached her ears before she felt a pair of warm arms wrap equally around her figure, looping around her slender waist and hooking unto her shoulder. Within that short amount of time, her eyes had slowly accustomed to the darkness, and through a sheet of black she could finally see her lover gazing back directly into her crystal blue irises. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

"We s-should...go to sleep..." she softly gasped. From beneath the blanket of darkness, Germany could see a small, sheepish smile form.

"Goodnight kiss?" he asked in a whisper. Italy probably could not catch the affectionate roll of Germany's eyes, but couldn't care less even if he did, only because she acquiesced. "Alright..."

Slowly, so as to not accidently smash their noses or foreheads together, they leaned into each other, nuzzling briefly before letting their lips touch with a light peck. As they pulled away, Italy let out a small giggle. It was all playful and innocent, just a simple goodnight kiss. At first, Germany responded with a small smile, but deep inside she felt a growing need. Within moments, that need became a flame that slowly burned hotter for every second longer she stared into his smiling face amidst the darkness. Even Italy began to notice the change in her expression and the sudden intensity of her gaze. It even felt as if the heat coming from deep inside her was coming off onto him, as well—he had nowhere to escape.

Without warning, he felt lips coming down onto his for another round, but this time he was greeted with urgency and need, and it was clear from the way Germany opened her mouth and softly sucked on his bottom lip that she hadn't had enough of him yet. He was perfectly fine with that—he would give her the entire world if he could and if ever he needed to.

He returned her kiss with equal passion, and gradually that passion grew into a roaring flame. At the very moment when a little moan reached the Italian's ears, he felt himself lose control. Arms clung desperately onto clothes and skin while legs began to tangle themselves on each other. Their once simple and innocent goodnight kiss become more and more feverish by the second to the point where Germany did not even pay notice when Italy pushed himself atop her, continuing the fervid movement of his lips. They tore themselves apart from each other with a sharp gasp of breath as Italy shifted his intense focus from her lips onto her breasts, his fingers firmly kneading her mounds, leaving her throwing her head back with a soft moan while she relished the firm grip of his fingers. Everything was quickly escalating.

The brunette dove back down onto the blonde's lips for another lip lock, his hands still firmly planted on her chest. Their lips and tongues synchronized for many moments continuing, but it seemed that after each passing moment, the fervor began to fade out and everything just started slowing down from a burning fire to a low simmer. Germany still relished in his kisses, despite the gradual loss of intensity—none of such decreases led to a loss of passion. Italy then broke away slowly after many moments, feeling as if it all just came to a halt, although the two of them were still left with labored breathing from such a brief and intense fit of passion. He looked down at her with half-lidded eyes and found the same expression mirrored on her features—they were both tired and sleepy. As much as he wanted to make love to her for another time within those twenty-four hours, he just could not muster up the stamina to do so at the moment. And from the look on her face, Germany could not do the same.

"Germany...I'm sleepy."

The blonde let out a heavy huff. "...I am, too."

She then let her arms slowly and gently wrap around his shoulders so she could pull him back down to lay next to her, and there they lay in a comfortable silence. They could both feel their eyelids fluttering, unsure when to allow themselves to lull away to slumber. Italy felt nimble fingers playing with each strand of brunette on his head, leading him to do the same on her short blond tresses. The feel of each other's hair in their fingers just brought about another gravitational pull, albeit weaker than the last, as they closed in the remaining space one last time for another passionate kiss. It was passion of brief standing with a slow and meaningful release. Germany pressed her forehead against her lover's as another pressing urgency began to bother her.

"Italy..." she whispered weakly as her eyes came close to shutting once and for all.

"Yeah?" he whispered back.

Her eyes were giving out. "...Tell me...you'll still be here...when I wake up..."

At first, Italy's eyes remained widened in interest and confusion at her sudden and meaningful question. Yet slowly, he felt a small smile creep on his face, one that she could no longer see in the darkness. He let his fingers affectionately run through her hair, lulling her further into oblivion. "I'll be here...I'll always be here."

"Ok..." she whispered weakly.

Her eyes were giving in. They fluttered heavily as she fought for all consciousness she had remaining. From beyond the blur that was overcoming her, she saw his slim silhouette lean further into her and felt a pair of warm lips press tenderly against her forehead. From there, everything was abandoned into a blissful oblivion.

"_I'll be waiting for you._

_I'll always be waiting..._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **"The Promise" is what it's titled—self-explanatory fluff covers it. (;

...ok. i have no words to express how sorry i am to cause all my readers this much distress and uneasiness. but i will try my best to explain myself and hopefully this chapter will redeem my honor somehow. (";v;) for those of you who still had faith in me and this story, thank you _so very_ _much_ for your loyalty! i don't know how you guys could possibly deal with shit i put you through. ("TTvTT) i guess all i can say in regards to this half-year long hiatus is that i just happened to have gone through an emotional roller coaster that was a complete and total writer's block in itself—i just couldn't get my focus. (";_;) i didn't lose a loved one or anything like that. it's actually a complicated situation that i hope to emulate in another HETALIA fic, so i guess you guys should keep your eyes peeled for that when it comes around if, y'know...you're, for some reason, curious about my absence. (""=v=)

so, normally i would take my time to do some extra thorough proofreading before i submit chapters, but i feel that i've tortured you guys enough with the long wait. i actually had to read through the entire fic again just to get the feel of where i left off and where i was supposed to continue from...and then i realized my writing style from the beginning is just...ugh. NO ME GUSTA. OTL i'm starting to question my execution of the plotline, too. ("-_-) and this chapter is just insanely full of fluff that it could possibly make some of you sick. "OTL

NONETHELESS! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS AS MUCH AS THE CONFIRMED CONTINUATION OF THIS FIC! I WILL NOT FLAKE—I _WILL_ FINISH THIS. thank you so much again for having faith in me and, as always, **I ABSOLUTELY LOVE REVIEWS.** i remember last summer, when i used to get so many week for week, how happy they would make me! so please! REVIEW AWAY! 8D


End file.
